


who got the keys to my bimmer

by hartwinning



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Crossover, Dirty Talk, Fix-It, Fluff, Harry Hart Lives, M/M, Mechanic!Eggsy, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Spy thriller, UST, mentions of abuse, most of this fic is T rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hartwinning/pseuds/hartwinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <br/>
  <i>"What's the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Harry gives him a slightly bewildered look and furrows his brow.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"A porcupine has the pricks on the outside," Eggsy finishes.</i>
</p><p>~</p><p>AU: Eggsy is a mechanic working in a garage owned by Dean. </p><p>Harry Hart is Galahad, Dean is forever an asshole, and Lee Unwin and his death have no connection to Kingsman. In terms of setting, the Lancelot trials are over (Roxy won the spot) but the Valentine investigation is ongoing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. BMW Z8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurring the line between Harry Hart | Colin Firth, Merlin's hidden talent, our poor lil Egg is just tryna make the best out of a shitty situation :'(

 

 

_**I. BMW Z8** _

 

  
Harry eases his roadster out of the Mill Hill Golf Club pathway onto the southbound lane of the A1.

He taps his glasses, "How much longer, Merlin?" he asks as he shifts gears and takes the fork to the A41, heading into Camden.

"Still four or five hours until completion, Harry, can you find some way to occupy yourself in the meantime? I do apologize."

"I'll think of something. Thank you, Merlin." 

Perhaps he shouldn't have ended his golf session early after all. But Harry hates golfing. He'd been out on the course since 8 am, it was 2 pm now, and six hours is about six times over his tolerance limit for the sport. He keeps his hand in it, however, under orders of Kingsman. True to stereotype, wealthy middle-aged men made an alarming number of important business deals over a round of golf. It's an exclusive world not many people are privy to, so agents who have a history with the sport (Harry used to play golf with his uncle) are encouraged to practice regularly so as not to lose their skills.

Roxy, the new Lancelot, had mentioned in passing that she'd grown up playing golf. Harry thought perhaps he could cede his Spy Golfer #2 title to her, but golf is still very much a man's world despite more and more recognizable female names in the sport.

The title of Spy Golfer #1 is held by none other than Merlin himself, who practically grew up with the legendary St. Andrew's course in Fife as his back garden. Not that Harry would ever call his best friend a gentleman to his face, but Merlin's (real) name made one non-sanctioned appearance in the paper, when he won the Junior Open Championship a year after they were both shipped off to Eton.

Merlin is a well-respected member of all of the important clubs and an expert in disguising information gathering as idle gossip. One game of golf and Merlin would have a year's worth of blackmail material on UK's finance and business elite.

Merlin refuses to sully the sport by inventing weaponized golf clubs and so Harry spends most of his time on the green editing his imaginary BuzzFeed article,  _50 Ways_ _to Kill a Man with a Callaway!_ , and debating the merits of a driver versus an iron in bludgeoning a man to death. 

Harry could turn back for another round but he'd already showered and changed out of that ghastly polo shirt and chinos - he draws the line at argyle knit waistcoats. Plus he'd already been on the course twice since Monday, the start of his mandatory period of "laying low."

There was chatter, apparently, connecting his name to Kingsman. Ordinarily this wouldn't be too worrisome, he did work for Kingsman Tailors, but considering he'd nearly blown his cover on his last mission and the chatter originated from IP addresses in Beijing, Kingsman was taking the necessary precautions to ensure that information regarding the spy agency didn't fall into the wrong hands.

Laying low is as close to a vacation as Kingsmen get, although some knights are so good at remaining inconspicuous that they never get the opportunity throughout their entire career. Some exile periods lasted a couple of days, if it was just a false alarm, while others went on for weeks - however long it took for Kingsman to tie up any loose ends. Merlin assured Harry that this was a minor incident and he'd be back on the field early next week.

Terms of the exile period are simple - agents must not be caught with anything on their person which could connect them to Kingsman, the spy agency.

Hypothetically, agents who were captured would be kept alive for purposes of interrogation so Harry isn't too concerned about trading in his bulletproof bespoke for a non-bulletproof Tom Ford suit (if it's good enough for Daniel Craig's James Bond then it's good enough for Harry Hart). He does miss his Rainmaker though, and the spyglasses, although Merlin didn't leave him empty-handed in that department -

_"What are these, Merlin?"_

_"Custom Tom Ford 5178s. Only two basic functions - untraceable comms and GPS tracker. No audio or video recording capability."_

_"Hmm, I must commend you on your excellent taste, Merlin,[I do look rather nice](http://40.media.tumblr.com/bd1e06ff9df0052126310f82257e458e/tumblr_nq17zbzly21rqajfzo1_540.jpg)."_

_"Get over yourself, Harry."_

No Kingsman cab, either, but he was more than happy to take his BMW Z8 roadster out of storage. It's a pleasure to drive the car, especially on days like today - he'd had the top down all day. He doesn't drive it very often; with fewer than 6,000 Z8s ever produced, only half of which were earmarked for distribution outside the US, it's too conspicuous as an every day car for a super secret spy. It's also left-hand drive (no right-hand drive versions were ever produced) so despite his extensive Kingsman driver's ed Harry always needed a brief period to get re-acquainted with the configuration.

Merlin, thinking that Harry would be at the golf course all day, decided to take advantage of the opportunity and update the security features in Harry's house in Stanhope Mews - they hadn't done any upgrades since he first moved in over twenty years ago. Harry didn't bother to ask about the details, constant surveillance was his life since joining Kingsman. He trusted Merlin's team with his life.

Still unsure of how to occupy himself until he receives the all-clear to return home, a quick glance down at his instrument panel reminds him of an upgrade he had been meaning to do on his car if and when he ever found the time. Well, four or five hours for Merlin's team to complete their work on his house, possibly another few days of exile, he has more than enough time on his hands.

Harry exits the motorway and pulls into the first reputable-looking garage he comes across - Dean's Auto Repairs.

  
  
**+**

  
  
Thursday is Eggsy's favorite day of the week.

Every Thursday, right after lunch Dean and the other mechanics ('band of crooks, occasional mechanics' is a more apt description according to Eggsy) leave the garage for an off-site (read: pub) meeting to discuss their other - mostly unsuccessful - business ventures and hash out their evil plans for the weekend. Eggsy had flat-out refused to take part in any of Dean's numerous endeavors outside of auto repair, so he was left alone to tend to the garage in the afternoon. 

The garage is Dean's most credible business practice and even that is a dubious honor. Once or twice every few months one of Dean's lackeys would come screeching into the garage in a car that was obviously stolen. The gang would quickly roll down the garage door, change the number plates and disable any vehicle tracking devices. Sometimes they'd try to enlist Eggsy's help, but he would storm off, refusing to take part in any illegal activity. It earned him a beating when he got home, but at least Dean was savvy enough to leave Eggsy's face alone - not exactly good business practice to have your best mechanic show up to work with a shiner. 

Oh, how Eggsy hates working for Dean.

On his bad days Eggsy feels like his dream of one day operating his own garage would remain exactly that - just a dream. Eggsy is close-fisted with his money but there's no way he could ever save up enough for capital to open his own garage. Dean pays him the bare minimum, if that, forfeiting the rest of his paycheck for rent even though Eggsy's share for the small council estate flat is far smaller than the amount Dean withholds every month.

Eggsy is the best, most qualified mechanic in Dean's garage - he's the only one with a technical certificate for maintenance, diagnostics, and repair of light and heavy vehicles. Even if the IMI's proposal to require licensing of mechanics goes through, Eggsy still wouldn't be able to get rid of Dean and his goons - they'd probably just fake some certificates and continue working.

On a few occasions Eggsy tried to apply for a position in another garage, only to be rebuffed when he couldn't produce a letter of recommendation from his current employer and Dean refused to provide Eggsy with an employment reference. Eggsy knew that was Dean's tactic to force him back into more disreputable lines of work, but Eggsy had come back from his aborted stint in the Marines with a set of principles and new-found determination to stick to them.

On his better days Eggsy doggedly pursues his plan, the only one he has at this point, really. He had business cards made - without Dean's knowledge - 

**Dean's Auto Repairs**   
Gary "Eggsy" Unwin  
Certified Motor Vehicle Technician

and would hand them out to any customer with whom he had built a good rapport. It would take years though, Eggsy knew, to build up an impressive enough clientele for him to use as leverage when seeking a position in another garage. Still, it made him proud when customers would ask for him by name or wanted him exclusively as their mechanic. 

The one saving grace working for Dean is that Eggsy is basically in charge of the garage, except for the finances. He keeps the space as neat and presentable as possible, checks the work of the other mechanics to make sure they haven't completely fucked something up, makes sure the garage is up to par with safety and equipment regulations. The other mechanics never complain about him being in charge or bossing them around, although it had more to do with Dean shacking up with Eggsy's mum rather than respect for Eggsy. If it wasn't for Eggsy, Dean would've run the garage to the ground by now.

But Thursday afternoons are sacred. Eggsy banishes all negative thoughts and freely indulges in his fantasy of one day becoming his own boss. Time enough to wallow in his misfortunes during the other six days of the week. 

 

**+**

 

On this particular Thursday Eggsy is restocking the windscreen wipers in the small retail section in front of the reception area. This had been another one of Eggsy's ideas. Even though profit from sales of the limited selection of items is small compared to what they take in from repairs, it's a way for Eggsy to draw customers in, engage them in conversation, and sometimes he would turn a small sale into a bigger-paying repair job. 

He's daydreaming, fantasizing about a garage as vast as an airplane hangar, filled with rare Aston Martins, Lamborghinis, Maseratis and McLarens. He imagines his wealthy patrons, James Bond-types with entourages of skimpily-clad women (although if he's being honest Eggsy'd rather go home with Bond than with a bird), folks with money to throw away. Maybe they'd hire Eggsy as their private mechanic and he'd get whisked away on a private jet to places like Monte Carlo or Dubai.

Eggsy hears a car pull up to the front of the shop and has a moment of disassociation, or whatever the proper term is for when fantasy and reality blend together too seamlessly.

Black BMW Z8, holy fuck, Eggsy never thought he'd see one of those in person - but it's the owner who takes his breath away. Eggsy's been to a few auto shows so he's seen some amazing cars but he never imagined someone like that would walk into his life.

Definitely a James Bond type. Slim-fitting expensive suit, crisp white shirt with the top two buttons undone so only his jugular and a bit of chest are showing but Eggsy finds it fucking obscene, trendy, thick-rimmed black glasses, wavy fluffy hair just starting to go grey. Lithe frame, trim waist, and tall! Such long legs - Eggsy does some quick mental geometry to figure out how they could both squeeze into the roadster so Eggsy can fuck the posh right out of him. He might have to engage his gymnast flexibility for that. The bonnet of the car might be a better option, but that aluminum chassis was a bit iffy, structurally. The bloke is well fit, the fuck would be worth the Eggsy-shaped dent in the bonnet of his £100,000 car - Eggsy would make sure of it. Not that he's had vast experience or anything but -

"Hello?"

When Harry finally catches sight of him, Eggsy gives him a cheeky smile and tips his chin in the direction of Harry's car -

"What's the difference between a BMW and a porcupine?"

Harry gives him a slightly bewildered look and furrows his brow. 

"A porcupine has the pricks on the outside," Eggsy finishes.

Silence, for a beat. Then Harry laughs. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his face relaxes, transformed by a smile as bright as the sun on this rare cloudless day. He beams down at Eggsy, brown eyes warm and friendly, and says in a crisp, velvety voice, "I wish I could contradict that implication but sadly I've been called that, and much worse, on occasion." He extends out a hand, "Harry Hart."

And just like that Eggsy's in love.

Well, OK, not really, but the way his heart starts racing, his sudden difficulty breathing, the onset of nerves which are of a different variety from those he usually gets when dealing with new customers - maybe the whole 'love at first sight' thing isn't such a far-fetched concept after all. 

"Sorry, Mr. Hart, couldn't resist. M' name's Eggsy," he says, taking the proffered hand - beautiful long fingers, callused palms, Eggsy notes - amused at the way Harry squints at the name patch on Eggsy's mechanic's coveralls to verify he heard his name correctly.  
  
"So what can I do for you today? Although I gotta be honest, if you need major repair work you're better off drivin' to BMW, we don't exactly keep parts 'round 'ere for limited collector's editions 'n all."

Harry takes stock of Eggsy's appearance, the spy in him noting identifying marks - the mole on Eggsy's neck, a small missing patch of eyebrow, nice strong jaw, mischievous eyes, green or blue-grey depending on the light - but more in admiration rather than for future possible target identification, and throws him a reassuring smile.

"Well, Eggsy, a couple of issues - the more pressing one is that my left rear indicator is fully out." Harry sounds mildly affronted that his ten year old sports car dares to show some wear and tear.

"Now I had the car imported from the US originally," Harry continues, "so I had to replace the original red neon indicators with amber ones to pass the MOT test. Back then there were already some concerns raised regarding the custom light units so I had some modifications done to replace the neon tubes with LEDs." Harry pauses in case Eggsy is one of those purists when it comes to preserving aesthetic integrity of rare vehicles.

Eggsy nods. "Makes sense, better for long term maintenance, innit?"

"Yes, exactly, Eggsy, replacement units are horrendously expensive and supply of parts for this car is completely unreliable. Now the second thing - I actually have no idea what the best way to do this would be - would you be able to somehow retrofit the car to be compatible with an iPhone? It was manufactured for one of those Motorola phones, the latest thing back then, I suppose. You're familiar with those flip phones?"

"Nah, mate, but I've seen memes on the internet," Eggsy says, eyes twinkling.

Harry rolls his eyes.

Eggsy nods, all business now. He's done both jobs before, not in cars as nice as Mr. Hart's, but there's nothing technically difficult about the procedures. 

"Well, Mr. Hart -"

"Harry, please," he corrects, with a smile that makes Eggsy want to offer Harry an alternative, non-pecuniary method of payment for Eggsy's services.

"Well, then, Harry, why don't you bring the car 'round back so I can take a look?"

 

**+**

 

Eggsy locks the front door of the shop and puts up the "Ring Bell for Service" sign. He's tempted to put up the "Closed" sign instead, he'd love to give Harry his full, undivided attention, but the garage can't exactly afford to miss out on potential revenue. It's not like he's expecting a stampede of customers anyway.

Eggsy reaches the back entrance in time to see Harry pull up to the service area and position the car between one of the few available two-post lifts. Eggsy motions for him to move forward a bit, and when he's satisfied Harry parks the roadster.

"Do you own this garage, Eggsy?" Harry asks as he opens the driver's door to get out - on the left side, still a bit odd.

"Nah, it's me stepdad's," Eggsy grumbles, and Harry doesn't miss the scowl that clouds over Eggsy's features. It's fleeting, though - a second later Eggsy brightens up at the fact that Harry's tone suggested Eggsy owning the garage was a completely reasonable assumption.

"Quiet at the moment, isn't it?"

Eggsy shrugs, "Rest of the crew meets every Thursday for some other business."

Harry takes the hint from the swear words Eggsy mutters under his breath following his reply and doesn't press him on it.

Eggsy takes some time to admire the car as he walks around it. Shiny, polished black exterior - "Designed by Henrik Fisker," Harry informs him.

"Of the Aston Martin DB9, yeah?" Eggsy asks.

"The very same."

Sport red leather interior, 50s-style BMW grille. Eggsy gives a low whistle of approval and winks at Harry, "Very, very nice."

He bends down to look at the tail lights. He runs his hand along the bumper, asks Harry to pop open the boot of the car, lifts up the carpet to look underneath, and takes a few more mental notes.

Next he takes measurements of the stereo head unit - standard size, good - and takes a closer look at the armrest. He brings over his laptop and searches his directories for the wiring diagram of the harness that should be in the BMW - 16-pin connector, nothing out of the ordinary, good.

When he's done with his preliminary examination Eggsy takes a deep breath.

"Alright, guv. I'm sure you've noticed there ain't a lot of fancy cars in 'ere, but I can promise you, I'm really fucking good at what I do. I'll replace the busted LEDs - I'll do both left and right rear lights, makes more sense while I've got access to everything. We can replace the current head unit with an aftermarket unit that's compatible with the iPhone, there are some really good options out there, we can order one today if you'd like and I can perform the install when the unit comes in. I guarantee and charge a fair price for all my work, I can even get you back on the road with your blinker fixed by closing time today."

Eggsy gives the whole spiel in one breath. He's a bit nervous, not about the work, but about convincing Harry that he's the right man for the job. 

Eggsy feels himself straighten up, stick his chin out proudly, as Harry stares deep into his eyes.

After what feels like forever, Harry apparently likes what he sees because he softens his gaze and says, "There was never any doubt in my mind, Eggsy. I see a great deal of potential in you and in your business."

And he does. Harry's relied on his instinct for most of his life and it's yet to fail spectacularly on him, and he had a good feeling about Eggsy as soon as - well, as soon as he called Harry a prick. He did notice the absence of luxury vehicles in the garage, but the space is clean and tidy, there's a wide variety of cars - all different sizes, brands, and models, most of them older makes.

Never trust a mechanic who drives new model vehicles, as the saying goes.

Eggsy relaxes visibly and lets out the breath he's been holding. "OK, now the tail lights, I'm gonna give a rough estimate of 3, 4 hours to get the job done. I've gotta disconnect the wiring at the bottom of the boot, take out the rear bumper to get to the tail lights, basically disassemble the bottom bumper to release the top bumper then disassemble the actual units themselves before I can replace the LEDs. I don't wanna rush through everything with a car like this."

Harry nods. It's been a while but he does remember leaving the car overnight to do the modifications to the rear indicators.

"Now I can take a few minutes to prepare a cost estimate before I begin -"

Harry waves him off and Eggsy rolls his eyes. Fucking wealthy pricks. "Ok, I guess I'll get started then."

Eggsy takes the keys from Harry and prepares for the job - gathers his tools, pulls up relevant documentation and manuals.

"Is there a Starbucks in the vicinity, Eggsy?"  
  
"Yeah, mate, down that way, on Primrose Hill."  
  
"Thank you," Harry says absently, scrolling through his iPhone as he turns and walks away.  
  
Eggsy stares after him longingly until he's out of sight then pulls himself together.

It's for the best, Eggsy sighs to himself, he'll get the job done quicker without Harry there for him to gawp at. He's got nothing in common with someone like Harry anyway, he reasons, catching sight of the golf clubs nestled in the passenger seat; the only use Eggsy would ever have for a golf club would be to bludgeon Dean to a well-deserved death with. Eggsy thinks back to all those things Dean had tried to force him to do - Eggsy'd ran off to join the Marines just so Dean wouldn't pimp him out on Smith Street. Not exactly the type of story he could entertain Harry with.

But it's Thursday afternoon and Eggsy has a strict policy of not letting thoughts of Dean ruin his day, so he turns on the radio for some background noise and gets started on Harry's car.

 

**+**

  
  
Originally Harry intended to grab a coffee and fuck off for the next couple of hours - what do civilians do in their spare time? See a movie? The new Melissa McCarthy, Jason Statham spy parody is out in theaters, that is definitely Harry's kind of movie. But the look of disappointment on Eggsy's face when Harry turned to leave was enough impetus for him to alter his plans.  _I'm turning into a sap in my old age_ , Harry surmises, and picks up the two drinks waiting for him at the end of the coffee bar.

The way Eggsy's face lights up when he returns to the garage, Harry thinks he might go for half-hourly coffee breaks just to see that look again. Harry couldn't remember the last time his presence made someone so happy. It's refreshing, actually, after years of being surrounded by people who are trained in the fine art of schooling one's features into perfect impassivity. 

"I hope you drink coffee, Eggsy, I took the liberty," Harry says as he hands Eggsy a drink, "I brought sugar packets as well, although I prefer mine without."

"Is this the same as you're drinkin', then?"

Eggsy takes a cautious sip. He's not a big coffee drinker and this will probably keep him up all night, but then again, if not the coffee, then definitely the increasingly minutely detailed fantasies involving Harry Hart.

"Do you like it? Need some sugar?"

"Nah, guv, it's perfect, fanks. Wha' is it?"

"A flat white," Harry says, "I also got us some butter croissants."

Harry watches as Eggsy takes delicate sips of his drink, eats the croissant with gusto, eyes wide as saucers. He tries and fails to turn his eyes away when Eggsy licks the croissant flakes off his plush bottom lip. 

"Thanks, guv," Eggsy says, a bit embarrassed he'd inhaled his croissant while Harry hardly made a dent in his.  
  
He waits for Harry to finish his snack, it seemed like the proper, gentlemanly thing to do. He tries to take a photo surreptitiously of Harry leaning against his car, head turned to the side, long legs crossed, sipping on his 'flat white' but Harry catches him in the act.  
  
Eggsy tries to brush it off, "Don't see that type of car 'round 'ere much."

Harry protests and moves off to the side so that Eggsy can take pictures of the car by itself, but it's too late, Eggsy's got a new phone background. 

Eggsy tips his head back, tries to get the last bit of foam from the bottom of the cup. He blushes when he sees Harry watch him. Harry follows the faint flush down Eggsy's chest and wonders what Eggsy looks like underneath those baggy coveralls.

"Sorry, mate, don't get to Starbucks much. Bit rich for my blood," he says shyly, "Trying to save up for my own garage."  
  
"Do you not like working here, Eggsy?"  
  
Eggsy sighs as he gets back to work, "Stepdad's a total arse."  
  
Over the next hour Harry gets the basics - Eggsy hates his stepdad, adores his little half-sister. He quit the Marines after two years - "Mum went mental," his father died during a Marines training exercise.

In turn Harry feeds him his practiced not-quite-the-whole-truths.  
  
"I'm a tailor."  
  
Eggsy gives him a look.  
  
"Savile Row, Eggsy, very haute stuff."  
  
Eggsy gives him a look and crosses his arms.  
  
"Also I come from money."  
  
That's the confirmation Eggsy's looking for.

Picking up on Eggsy's reticence on speaking about himself, Harry talks about his travels, trying to recall his first impressions, before the novelty of travel gave way to a tally of bullet wounds and scars, when packing was about remembering a toothbrush rather than keeping track of passports and aliases.

Eggsy's all ears, asks in particular about New York, Miami, Los Angeles.

"Have plans to tour the States in the near future, Eggsy?"

"Grand Theft Auto," Eggsy replies sheepishly.

The hours fly by in Eggsy's company. Eggsy offers to give Harry a call when he's done, but Harry tells Eggsy his house is being fumigated and it will take a few hours for the foul-smelling fumes to dissipate.

Eggsy enlists Harry's help at one point and Harry gets up from the armchair Eggsy supplied for him, which reeks of pot but is comfortably worn-in. He holds up the upper half of the bumper while Eggsy disconnects some wiring harnesses to access the light units. Maybe Eggsy has some proper equipment for that but this is better, this way he gets a whiff of Harry's cologne and can peek down his shirt and damn, the man's got a nice set of pecs, what the hell?!

They're interrupted a few times by other customers, but nothing requiring immediate attention. Just one pick up, and the rest of the jobs Eggsy's able to queue up for tomorrow when the other mechanics are in. 

Eggsy's done with the lights, he's currently restoring the rear bumper, then all he's got left to do is re-organize the boot of the car. Harry gets up to grab them some dinner. 

Harry doesn't notice the radio is on until there's a lull in the conversation. The station's currently playing a block of hip-hop classics, and the song's one of those instantly recognizable one-hit wonders of which no one ever remembers the name of the singer.

"Is this your theme song, Eggsy?" Harry asks casually.

"Fuck off, Hart."

 

    _♪ I wish I was little bit taller,_  
_I wish I was a baller_  
_I wish I had a girl who looked good_  
_I would call her_  
_I wish I had a rabbit in a hat with a bat_  
_and a '64 Impala ♪_

 

**+**

  
Harry moves the golf clubs into the boot and they leave the car doors open, eat fish and chips curled up in the plush leather seats of the roadster, despite Eggsy's protestations of getting grease all over the car. 

Eggsy's got his laptop and they're narrowing down choices for Harry's new stereo head unit. Harry's only half-listening to Eggsy prattling on, he knows he'll probably just go with whatever Eggsy recommends. 

"Now some audiophiles are really into Nakamichi units, Japanese made, beautiful, look real nice in bimmers. But I might 'ave a bit of trouble getting one, and I ain't sure about full iPhone support. Now the Pioneer ones are a pre'ey good option, they got Bluetooth, direct control for iPhone, you can match the display illumination with your instrument panel. Pioneer are good with support, with newer models you'll just need a firmware update if you upgrade your phone, unless Sir Jony fuckin' Ive decides to wring more money ou' of you n' me, we're just Apple sheep really, ain't we, and he makes a fancy new thunder lightnin' fuckin' hurricane connector, in which case I'll have to pop the unit back out and change the USB cord. 'Course it'd be easier with one o' them front-facing ports, maybe if you was drivin' a clunker I'd recommend it, but a nice dash like this, don't wanna ruin it with a thing stickin' out..."

Harry mumbles something about not using the car often enough to justify the fancy Japanese model, so they settle on a unit by Pioneer. Eggsy places an order with his supplier right there on the spot, excited for a guaranteed second date (appointment, whatever) with Harry.

After dinner they walk up to the till to settle Harry's account.

"Eggsy, would you mind terribly if you kept my address and phone number off your customer database? I trust you completely but I had a terrible experience once with a retailer who sold my information. It was a full year before I managed to stop the junk mail and solicitation calls."  
  
Eggsy doesn't find anything too odd in that request, sometimes he doesn't even get a name, just a thick wad of cash and a nudge-nudge-wink-wink. It's fine, the less Eggsy knows about shady characters the better. He'd memorized Harry's address and phone number as soon as Harry told him anyway, he's always had that ability. He puts his name down on the work order as "H.H.", suddenly wary of Dean finding out about his wealthy customer.  
  
Eggsy checks the car's fluids, free of charge (and if Harry wants his bodily fluids checked that'd be free too) in a desperate attempt to extend their time together. He frowns at something he finds while he's checking the engine. He grabs Harry's hand and drags him to the opened bonnet of the car to point something out.  
  
Eggsy puts his hands on his hips and purses his lips, then points and says, "Mate, look 'ere, see that bit on the VANOS? 'Sposed to be silver colored, yeah? Yours has gone all browny-gold with sedimentation."  
  
Eggsy's scolding him and Harry finds it adorable but he puts his spy training to good use, schooling his features to look properly chastised instead of inordinately fond.  
  
Eggsy writes him a note, like a doctor writing a prescription, "Shell M TwinPower Turbo 10W-60, you gotta go to a BMW dealer to get it, if you have trouble lemme know, maybe I can even dig up the original Castrol TWS motor oil for ya, 's been discontinued but you can find 'em on eBay and Amazon sometimes."

Harry nods. When his exile's over he's sure Merlin can get him something to spec from Kingsman's garage.

Speak of the devil - Merlin's voice comes in over comms, "Just about finished, Harry, you can go home now."

Harry doesn't reply because he doesn't want to start talking to thin air in front of Eggsy.

Harry gets in his car and backs up out of the garage and does a three-point turn to face the car in the right direction.

Eggsy shuffles over, suddenly a bit shy, "Er, 'arry, here's my business card - put me mobile on the back in case you need to call after hours."

Harry extends a hand - "Thank you very much, Eggsy, it's been a pleasure. Do you have a few more business cards?"

Harry's thinking of those insufferable galas he has to attend, those businessmen on the golf course - there's never a dearth of men and women willing to brag about their latest auto acquisitions. Maybe he can drum up some business for Eggsy.

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," Eggsy bounces on his heels like an excited puppy and runs back inside to grab a stack of business cards.

"Give me a call when the Pioneer comes in, Eggsy. Until next time, then."

"Bye, Harry."

Eggsy sees Harry signal a left at the corner - indicator working beautifully - and watches until the Z8 is out of sight.

The world looks a little bit greyer through his eyes when Harry's gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The car:  
> 
> 
> Mixture of Brit and American English car terms but it got exhausting (pun intended) looking up terms after a while. I'm sure y'all can figure out what a tail light is. 
> 
> Pretty sure you have to take apart the engine to see the visible damage to the VANOS but the mental picture of Harry being scolded by Eggsy is worth the discrepancy I hope?!
> 
> I'm Jon Snow re: golf, I know nothing.
> 
> I can't really write out Eggsy's accent but I give a kind of half-assed effort just for the contrast between his chav and Harry's posh.
> 
> Harry's Tom Ford 5178 glasses are modeled after the pair Colin Firth wore in A Single Man, which Colin found in a prop box. Good business decision by Tom Ford to re-issue them, I just wish they didn't cost $500+ I'd love a pair for myself! Also, after Casino Royale the franchise costume designer switched Bond's costumes from Brioni to Tom Ford.


	2. BMW E30 M3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is a fan of blues-y rock, who knew?, Eggsy gets out of his coveralls but he's still fully clothed :( , Merlin is a voyeur but we knew that already, Roxy to the rescue!, this chapter's basically just people treating Eggsy to Starbucks ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

 

 _ **II. 1990 BMW E30 M3 Sport Evolution**_  
  
  
  
  
Eggsy clears his throat.

"Hi Har - Mr. Hart - Harry,"  _fuckin' hell, get it together_ , "It's Eggsy, from the garage? Just wanted to let ya know, the stereo unit came in today, it's Tuesday... today. I'm free Thursday afternoon, like before, so if yous available let me know, I could get ya sorted by the weekend, would be nice to play your music n' take calls in the car, yeah? Um anyway, you should 'ave my number, but just in case..."

 _Also I think I love you and I haven't stopped staring at your photo and mum's been complaining about my extra long showers_.

Eggsy exhales. God he hates talking on the phone.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy doesn't get a call back until later that evening. He's at the pub with his mates, a local band's playing, and he nearly misses the call it's so loud in the small space.

"Hello, Harry? Hold on a sec, don't go anywhere!" Eggsy shouts over the din. He runs out the back door into a side street for some privacy.  
  
"Eggsy? Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yeah, guv, sorry, 'm out in Kennington wif me mates, bit loud in there."  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, Eggsy, I didn't mean to interrupt your festivities, I can call the garage tomorrow during business hours -"  
  
Eggsy grins at 'festivities', "Nah, s'alright, mate, I'd rather talk to ya. You get my message?"  
  
"Yes I did, Eggsy. Unfortunately I won't be able to make it this Thursday, I have to travel for business," Harry says. He's disappointed he won't be seeing Eggsy, but he's happy to be back in the field. Ecuador, to be specific, starting tomorrow. "I will be back next Tuesday evening, however, I can drop off the car on Wednesday."  
  
Eggsy chews on his bottom lip. Of course he's dying to see Harry again, but the thought of Dean and those fucking con mechanics, with their grubby hands all over Harry's beautiful car, circling Harry like vultures because it's pretty obvious he's fucking loaded - no, it has to be Thursday, when he has the garage to himself.   
  
"Um, are you free Thursday afternoon next week, Harry?"  
  
"Yes, I believe so. If that works better for you, Eggsy, I'm happy to oblige."  
  
Harry's voice sounds amazing over the phone. Eggsy's never called up a chat line but he'd willingly pay a quid a minute if it was Harry on the other end of the line, talking about all the filthy things he'd do to Eggsy. Of course Harry doing that for free, of his own accord, would be the best case scenario.  
  
"Yeah, thas perfect, Harry, fanks. How you been, guv?" Eggsy asks before Harry has the chance to say goodbye.  
  
"I'm very well, Eggsy, thank you for asking. Work's picked up considerably, I may not be able to have as long a chat with you on Thursday as we had last time, I'm afraid."  
  
"Well, you gotta do what you gotta do," Eggsy says, then remembers something, "Say... Harry?"  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"Did ya give my business card to some American billionaire? Forgot 'is name... former mayor of New York or summat? Sumfin...berg?"  
  
"Oh yes, that would be Mike, of course! He actually came to your garage?" Harry's impressed.  
  
"No, not 'imself, was his driver, David his name was, who came in. Brought in a fuckin' Cadillac CTS-V sedan, guv. Rear end lockin' up, had to replace the rear axle pinion seal."  
  
"Well you know, Eggsy, do a good job with that and it can be very lucrative for you. You know these millionaires don't drive flashy sports cars day-to-day, they get chauffeured everywhere they go. I see it all the time at the golf course - rows and rows of black Mercedes sedans, the drivers all having a chat while waiting for their bosses. Sometimes they hire separate cars and drivers for their spouses, as well. I hope you gave Mike's driver your business card."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, 'course! An' he's comin' to pick up the car tomorrow, I can give 'im more."  
  
"Well Mike is very influential on both sides of the pond, as you can imagine, Eggsy. Do you know, when the president of the United States travels abroad, his ground transport - bulletproof limousine, what have you - are flown in separately via Boeing C-17 transport aircraft? And one time the president's limo got stuck on a ramp in Dublin, as I recall. Could you imagine, Eggsy, something like that happening in London, and the president ends up in your garage?" Harry chuckles.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, think it could happen?!" Eggsy's shouting excitedly again, but not because of the band.  
  
"Well, most likely not, but my point is, you have to work this connection, Eggsy, it's a very important one."  
  
"I will, Harry. Thanks, guv, for everyfin."  
  
"No need to thank me, Eggsy, it's you who does all of the hard work. Everything you've accomplished, you've earned on your own merit."  
  
Eggsy would argue but he's suddenly got a lump in his throat.  
  
"Well, Eggsy, I'd love to stay and chat all evening, but I've got a plane to catch in the morning, special client overseas."  
  
"Alright then. G'nite Harry, safe travels."  
  
"I'll see you next week, Eggsy."  
  
_That's why you gotta get with them posh old blokes_ , Eggsy thinks to himself. He loves his mates, Ryan and Jamal, but they aren't exactly fountains of knowledge when it comes to Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

  
  
**+**

 

Eggsy's busy at the garage and so the Thursday of Eggsy's appointment with Harry rolls around quickly, considering how much Eggsy is looking forward to it.

On top of his regular mechanic jobs, Eggsy spent the week reviewing the procedure for replacing Harry's stereo unit until he felt like he could do it in his sleep, fielding phone calls from potential customers - leads from David, Bloomberg's chauffeur - and getting started on a business proposal in case those leads turned into actual opportunity. 

Eggsy couldn't have picked a better spokesperson for the garage than David. He was in his early thirties, a few years older than Eggsy but they got on extremely well. David was outgoing, easy to get along with, and had a very wide social circle, which Eggsy was enthusiastically welcomed into about five minutes into their introduction. Together they lamented the waste of the Cadillac, forced to sit in London's nose-to-tail traffic, and made plans for a day trip to an abandoned airfield, or better yet, nearby Brands Hatch Circuit, where they could put its six-speed transmission and V8 supercharged LSA engine to better use. 

It's around 1:30pm and Eggsy's taking down notes from the latest lead, someone who phoned in with a few questions about a Cadillac Escalade (Eggsy wonders who the fuck these people are, that they need a tricked-out bulletproof Escalade - real life Nick Furys or something?) when he hears a car horn. He looks up to see the black Z8 round the front parking section and head straight to the service area in the back.

Eggsy grins and puts up the "Ring Bell for Service" sign.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy watches as Harry folds up his glasses and sticks them in his jacket pocket and picks up two Starbucks drinks from the cup holders in the armrest.

Eggsy jogs over to open the door for him.

Eggsy thought Harry's suit from before was fancy but the one he's wearing today is on a whole other level. It's a grey pinstriped suit - double-breasted jacket, slim-cut trousers. It's tailored so precisely to Harry's measurements it wouldn't fit anyone else. Harry's hair is coiffed, unlike the fluffy, loose waves of their first meeting.

He looks planets out of Eggsy's league.

Eggsy feels a bit shy all of a sudden, but Harry has the same friendly smile and warm gaze as before.   
  
"Oh dear," Harry says as he hands Eggsy a coffee cup, "I may have spilled a bit of it on the way over here."  
  
Eggsy drops his gaze and gathers his wits for a few moments before accepting the coffee cup. He takes a welcome sip of the drink as his mouth's gone dry. He smiles and takes another sip - it gives Eggsy a warm fuzzy feeling to think that he and Harry have a thing now with the flat whites - and tips his coffee cup towards Harry's.

"Mmm, 's good mate, cheers."   
  
Harry puts an arm around Eggsy and rests his hand lightly on the back of Eggsy's shoulder. "How are you, Eggsy? It's good to see you."  
  
Eggsy's even more conscious of his grubby coveralls standing this close to Harry. "You look fuckin' amazing, Harry. Serious, guv, you havin' tea with the Queen?"

"That's the power of a bespoke suit, Eggsy. It gives the illusion of someone who's on his way to very important business in Buckingham Palace, and masks my true identity, that of a clumsy dolt who's just spilled coffee all over himself," Harry says with a self-deprecating pout.

"You've never been clumsy in yer life, Harry," accuses Eggsy, "not for a second." 

They exchange pleasantries and catch up. Eggsy tells Harry about David and the increasing number of calls from potential customers, and Harry gives Eggsy a vague impression of the weather in South America and recounts funny anecdotes of the long flight across the Atlantic in lieu of spilling top secret mission details.

Eggsy excuses himself and goes inside to fetch the Pioneer head unit to show Harry. When he comes back Harry's on the phone.

"Galahad," Merlin says reproachfully, "The least you could do is keep your glasses on so that I could catch a glimpse of this adorable mechanic of yours, after talking my ears off about him, en español no less, all through your Ecuador mission."

Harry rolls his eyes - talked his ears off, his arse. He made one (one!) brief passing mention of Eggsy to Merlin. Perhaps his attempt at sounding casual wasn't quite so successful in Spanish.

"Lo siento, El Mago," Harry says.

"No you aren't, you cunt," Merlin says, "But I am sorry to cut your rendezvous short, I know you've been looking forward to watching your mechanic quote-unquote 'work on your car.' We need you to come in ASAP, we have new information regarding the former Lancelot's mission in Argentina. We need to plan and detail a follow-up mission. I've tracked your glasses, the cab's on its way to your location as we speak."

"Understood. I'll see you soon."

Harry hangs up and turns to Eggsy with an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry, Eggsy, I've got to get back to the shop. When do you think the car will be ready?"

He picks up the Pioneer Eggsy's holding out to him for inspection, "Oh, is this the unit? Looks lovely, Eggsy, great choice."

Harry examines the unit while Eggsy deliberates. As long as the garage isn't bombarded with customers, Eggsy can spend the rest of the afternoon on Harry's car. He'll work overtime if needed to finish the job by tonight so that Harry can pick up his car early tomorrow morning before Dean and his goons come in.

"Well seein' as you're a VIP customer, guv, you can pick 'er up first thing tomorrow morning," Eggsy says.

Harry looks surprised. "Are you sure? There's no rush, Eggsy, I wouldn't want you to spend the night here."

Eggsy declines to mention that he's done that plenty of times in the past, he's even got a cot set up in his little office for when Dean's having a proper rank night and Eggsy hadn't fully healed yet from the last time he was Dean's punching bag.

"Thas the kind o' service we provide here at Dean's Auto, guv."

Harry smiles, "I'm sure she'll be in good hands. What time does the garage open tomorrow?"

"We open at 8am, but I'll be here before 7," Eggsy says.

"Perfect. I can come 'round 7, if that's all right with you."

They discuss a few details regarding the replacement of the head unit before Harry reluctantly turns to leave. He squeezes Eggsy's shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow, Eggsy, give me a call if you need anything," then he walks toward a black cab which miraculously appears out of nowhere.

"What, no chauffeured sedan for ya, guv?"

"Do I look like a billionaire to you, Eggsy?"

"Fuck yeah you do, Harry."

Harry laughs and waves goodbye over his shoulder.

Halfway to the cab Harry turns back suddenly and jogs over to the roadster. He shakes his head at Eggsy, "How forgetful of me," he says and picks up an umbrella from the passenger seat. 

Eggsy looks up at the sky. At the moment there doesn't seem to be any threat of rain, but you never know with London weather. Plus the umbrella seems kind of fancy - black, with gold accents and a beautiful curved, wooden handle.

As soon as Harry's out of sight Eggsy begins to work on the head unit replacement. He works quickly but carefully, lining the area around the slot for the stereo with thick tape to avoid scratching the pristine interior while he pops out the stock unit. He solders the adapter harness into the Pioneer unit and checks for continuity, and although Harry didn't explicitly request it, Eggsy threads a USB-iPhone lightning cable through the back of the unit, underneath the rubber boot surrounding the emergency brake, and through to the back of the armrest, with enough slack so that Harry can keep the armrest closed while his phone is plugged in. He has a few scares with some of the plastic tabs while dismantling the armrest but in the end nothing breaks. He sets the Pioneer's glow to orange, to match the Z8's control panel's illumination, and by the time Jamal and Ryan come by the garage to drag him to the pub he's just about finished cleaning off the residue from the tape.

He endures some teasing from his mates, who were convinced that Eggsy had scanned the photo of Harry from a  _Car and Driver_  magazine centerfold. He lets them take selfies with the car - although he draws the line at either of them sitting in it - as long as they promise not to post the photos on Facebook.

Eggsy's proud of his work and thinks he deserves a pint or two for a job well done.

Eggsy refuses to think about how tomorrow might be the last time he'll be seeing Harry for a while, if ever. If the Z8 wasn't such a nice car Eggsy would be tempted to tamper with it a little, if only to force another meeting.  

 

**+**

 

The following morning Harry discovers a very scenic 8-km running route from his house to the garage, passing through Kensington Gardens, Regents Park, and Primrose Hill. He stops to catch his breath and comes up on Eggsy as he's hand-polishing the roadster.

"Good morning, Eggsy!" Something about seeing Eggsy first thing in the morning makes him extremely cheerful.

Eggsy's not wearing his coveralls, but the shapeless flannel shirt he's wearing isn't much of an improvement.

Eggsy, meanwhile, puts his hands on his hips and walks a circle around Harry and views him from all angles, wondering where on earth Harry managed to find a fucking bespoke tracksuit.

"Fuckin' designer threads, guv?"

Harry waves him off, "Don't be ridiculous Eggsy, it's just normal running gear."

"Mm-hmm." Eggsy lets the matter slide, he's not really complaining, Harry's arse looks very, very nice in those tracksuit bottoms. 

Eggsy rubs his hands together. "Alright, Harry, you ready for dis?!"

"Show me what you got, Eggsy," Harry replies to Eggsy's utter delight.

They walk over to the roadster together and Eggsy watches Harry's face when he sees the new head unit for the first time.

Harry whistles, "That's quite a match, isn't it, Eggsy? Looks perfect!" He claps Eggsy on the shoulder.

Eggsy returns his keys and they sit in the idling car together, Harry in the driver's seat, while Eggsy shows him all the features.

"Now, Harry, if you connect your phone to the receiver via Bluetooth, and set the receiver to 'Bluetooth audio', like so," Eggsy demonstrates, "All you gotta do is press the volume button to bring up Siri. Go on, give it a try."

Harry presses the volume button, "Siri, send a text to Eggsy."

The roadster replies, "OK, what do you want to say to Eggsy?"

"Thank you, Eggsy, you are the best, and best-looking, mechanic."

"Ready to send it?" Siri confirms after she fills in the message bubble.

"Yes."

Eggsy's phone chimes with an incoming text message a split second later.

"That is brilliant, Eggsy!"

"Ain't done yet, guv! Now then, when you play a song from your library, the info should come up on the panel."

Harry scrolls through his playlist and selects a song. Eggsy's expecting classical music, possibly opera, and is pleasantly surprised when the blues-y strains of a bass guitar fill the roadster.

Eggsy doesn't recognize the song, it's not a genre he usually listens to. Harry lowers the volume shortly after but it's enough for Eggsy's Shazam app to recognize the song as  _The Flame_  by The Black Keys.

Harry settles his account - Eggsy's pretty sure Harry doesn't even glance at the total, and Harry insists on treating Eggsy to breakfast. They drive over to Starbucks and Eggsy's very impressed with Harry's expert handling of the roadster as he eases it into a tight parking spot on the first try.

 

**+**

 

"So yous a big bimmer fan, then?" Eggsy asks as they settle into a pair of plush armchairs.

"Well, not exactly, not as a true car enthusiast would be, I suppose," Harry admits, "It's more - a sentimental connection. I lost both my parents to a plane crash when I was very young. A distant uncle was saddled with me, although I was raised mostly by nannies and au pairs. I didn't spend much time with my uncle, he had a very demanding job," 'demanding' being the tamest possible description of the life of a Kingsman knight, Harry leaves unsaid.

"I never begrudged him that; to plan your life and career never wanting children and to be entrusted with one out of the blue isn't exactly fair, or easy. He did the best he could, under the circumstances."

"You turned out OK, Harry," Eggsy says gently.

Harry smiles, "Thank you, Eggsy, so did you, despite your loss."

"My uncle wasn't much for flashy cars," Harry continues, "he always opted for more classic styling. My third year at Eton he purchased a BMW E21. Drove me back and forth to college, then later on to university. We would drive over to the golf course every other weekend, weather permitting. I think perhaps at that point he was trying to make up for lost time. My uncle died a few years after I graduated university, and even though golf was never my favorite pastime, my fondest, most vivid memories of him are those long car rides."

Harry also leaves unsaid the details of his uncle's death - he died on a mission - and the fact that his current boss, Chester King, who was agent Bors back then, had paid him a visit in the midst of his Combat Medical Technician training to give him his uncle's medal of honor and also to offer him a chance to become the next Galahad. 

"Now the first car I purchased for myself," Harry says in a much lighter tone, "was an E30, sort of a homage to my uncle, I suppose, as it was the successor to the E21. A 1990 E30 M3 Sport Evo to be specific."

"Wicked, Harry!" Eggsy says, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"Were you even alive in 1990, Eggsy?"

"Yeah, sure, guv - born '89," Eggsy replies with a sly grin.

"Christ," Harry mutters and rubs his forehead.

"You ain't got nothin' to worry about, guv, you're well fit," Eggsy says and punctuates it with a slow, deliberate once-over, pausing for a brief second at Harry's crotch.

Harry rests his elbows on his thighs and leans in toward Eggsy. A smirk replaces his smile, his eyes go dark and there's a glint of danger in them. He looks lethal, ready to pounce. 

"Be very careful with that move, Eggsy, I'm not the type of person you should be looking at like that," Harry warns, his voice low and gruff.

Eggsy blushes then swallows, watches Harry's eyes as they follow the rising color down Eggsy's chest and the movement of Eggsy's Adam's apple.

Eggsy straightens, sticks his chin out and says boldly, even as his heart thumps vigorously, "I can handle you."

Harry smiles and his gaze softens considerably. He leans back in the armchair and is silent for a few minutes, regarding Eggsy with a curious expression. Finally he says, tone light and teasing, "If, however, there's a pretty young thing you'd like to impress, feel free to borrow the roadster, I trust you fully with her."

Eggsy forces himself to relax as well. "I'd love to drive the roadster, Harry, but the only passenger I'd want in it is you."

Harry laughs, because it's his only other option besides lifting Eggsy bodily off the chair and seating him onto his lap.

"So, Eggsy, what's your dream car?" Harry asks, abruptly steering the conversation off course, the tone of his voice brooking no argument to bring up the topic again. 

Eggsy gives Harry a sly grin and another once-over, this time licking his lips suggestively, "My dream car, or my dream ride?" 

Harry laughs again. This boy will be the death of him. "Christ, Eggsy," he groans with his face in his hands.

 

**+**

 

They stand next to the roadster and chat, the tension between them having dissipated. Harry's ready to drive back home to get ready for work and Eggsy's set to walk back to the garage.

"You know, Eggsy," Harry says, "the E30 is sitting in my garage at the moment, I think it's still in decent condition. If you're up to the challenge, you can come over and take a look at it. Might be nice to have the option of a less ostentatious car than the roadster to drive around in."

Eggsy perks up. He doesn't bother telling Harry that classic cars garner just as much attention on the road as flashy sports cars. "Yeah, Harry, I'd love to!"

"You can even do it in your spare time, maybe earn some extra cash."

Eggsy frowns. "Ain't got much time outside business hours, guv. Gotta watch my baby sis on the weekends and after work sometimes... nah, it's best if I keep it in the books. Won't be much trouble leaving work early a coupla days durin' the week, and Dean won't care if I borrow some tools from the garage if he knows it's for a job."

Eggsy pulls his phone out, eager to cement his next meeting with Harry. "You free next Tuesday, guv?"

"Yes, I believe so, but text me first, I tend to have irregular hours at the shop."

"Yes, Harry! Glad this ain't goodbye," Eggsy says with a wink.

Harry smiles in agreement as he enters the car. "You have my address, Eggsy?" 

"Yeah, boss." 

Harry turns his attention to his new head unit, a huge smile on his face, and selects a song before driving off.

Eggsy pulls up Shazam again.  _I'm the King_  by Six Def. Eggsy rolls his eyes. How appropriate. He sticks his earbuds in and listens to the song on his way back to the garage.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy slows down and coasts in front of a row of posh townhouses until he spots Harry's house number, at the end of a cul-de-sac in the fanciest part of London Eggsy's ever set foot in - he biked past Kensington Palace for fuck's sake, on the way over from the garage.  

He swings one leg over and dismounts then leans his bike against the wall. The irony of a mechanic not owning a car isn't lost on Eggsy. Even if he did manage to cobble together some sort of Frankenmobile from parts lying around in the garage, he didn't have cash to spare for things like petrol and insurance. A born-and-bred Londoner, he's never actually needed a car to get around so it would just be for show. Still, it grates on him, the fact that Eggsy still can't afford to own a car at this point in his life.

Eggsy rings the bell, half expecting a white-gloved butler to answer the door. He waits patiently, there's a light on in at least one room so someone must be in. He hears some shuffling going on inside, then a muttered "Shit," followed by "Just a second!" - definitely Harry's voice - and more shuffling.

 

**+**

 

Harry's home from work not ten minutes before he hears the doorbell chime.

"Merlin," he says over the glasses, "Could we take a short break? I have some business to take care of, shouldn't take more than 20, 30 minutes."

"Yes, Harry, just tap in to resume when you're ready."

Harry pads down the stairs to the door then realizes he's still got his gun holster on. 

"Shit," he mutters then yells toward the door, "Just a second!" before heading back upstairs to his study where he shrugs off the holster and hangs it on the back of his chair.

He hurries back downstairs and opens the door.

"My, my, what have we here," Merlin's voice over comms.

 _Shit._ Harry forgot to fold in his glasses _._

"Evenin', Harry."

"Eggsy! So glad you could make it. I hope you didn't have any trouble finding the place."

"Nah, guv, wish I'd known you lived in Kensington, woulda worn sumfin fancy," Eggsy says shyly, removing his snapback and folding it into his back pocket.

Harry hears Merlin gasp, "A chav! He is absolutely delectable, Harry, I'm surprised you haven't eaten him up yet. A bit young, perhaps, but finally someone who can keep up with you, you scoundrel."

_Christ, doesn't Merlin have anything better to do - some field mission he should be handling, tech agents he should be terrorizing - than to spy on his private affairs?_

"Nonsense, Eggsy. Please come in."

"Harry, you do realize this is how most pornos start?" Merlin muses.

"Would you like some tea before I show you the car, Eggsy?" Harry says, a bit too loudly.

Eggsy follows Harry past the foyer into the living room. He doesn't pay much attention to the décor, he's too busy ogling Harry. Harry's shirt hugs his frame, just tight enough to make out defined pecs and a flat stomach - no hint of the typical middle-age belly pouch. Eggsy's treated to an excellent view of Harry's arse through his custom fit tailored trousers. 

Eggsy clears his throat, "Yeah, sure, tea would be lovely."

Harry turns around and extends a hand toward the kitchen, "After you, Eggsy."

Catching [the smile that Eggsy gives Harry](http://33.media.tumblr.com/c27b36f0c120425256d92bb33ab1788c/tumblr_nm7jzm7iZ31rrecxqo1_500.gif), Merlin says, "I take back what I said about the porno, Harry. That boy is clearly arse over tits in love with you."

Eggsy reaches both hands behind him to pull off his hoodie - it's suddenly a bit warm in Harry's house.

Harry holds his breath as Eggsy's t-shirt gets caught on his hoodie and it rides up, giving Harry (and Merlin) a brief glimpse of an expanse of skin, pale and smooth, dotted with moles. Harry curses whichever cockblocking law of physics pulls the t-shirt back down just as Eggsy's hoodie goes over his head. 

"I take it back again, this is most definitely a porno," Merlin decides. "Is he going to ask you to  _feel how hot his hose is_? Is he going to remind you to  _keep the rear end lubed up_? Is he -"

Harry yanks off his glasses and shoves them into his trouser pocket.

 

**+**

 

Harry's back in his study after giving Eggsy a quick tour of the garage/workshop in the rear of his house and after a dramatic reveal of the old E30, kept in a controlled environment all these years under a tarp dust cover.

There's a small washroom in the garage, which Harry told Eggsy he's free to use. The main bathroom inside the house is much nicer, but the few guests Harry's allowed into his home haven't taken too kindly to being stared at by Mr. Pickle, his taxidermied dog.

Harry puts his glasses back on and taps in. "Merlin? Ready to resume?"

"Harry."

"What, Merlin? There's nothing to discuss," Harry says as he peeks through the curtains into his back garden to catch a glimpse of Eggsy.

"Well clearly something's happened between the two of you, none of my mechanics have ever looked at me like that, Harry, if they had I would have never needed to pay for any repairs."

Harry sighs. Apparently there's no escaping this conversation. "Merlin, I'm quite sure I've missed the short window of opportunity for casual sex with the young man," he says regretfully, "I've grown rather fond of him now, and when you start worrying about someone's well-being it puts a damper on the whole casual fling thing. I should have fucked first, talked later."

"So essentially you care too much about him now to fuck him."

"Essentially... I suppose."

"Well, why does it have to be a casual fling? You've had plenty of those, Harry, an astronomical number if you include honeypots, which for your sake, I won't. You know most people do this thing called  _dating_ , they have these things called  _relationships_..." 

Harry makes a 'Merlin, are you daft?' face even though Merlin can't see him. "Merlin, not once have I dated a civilian since joining Kingsman. My last relationship was with Lucas, from MI5, and prior to that with Livia of the AISI, who at the time was deep undercover in the mafia. There's a good reason my non-casual flings have all been with someone within the intelligence community; no true relationship should be based off lies."

"True," Merlin concedes, but doesn't give up just yet, "but Eggsy makes you smile, and laugh. He makes you happy, Harry, and it's been a while. I also cannot recall the last time I saw someone look at you the way he does, and I've been staring at your lovers through your glasses for a very long time, Harry."

Harry disregards the latter part of that sentence for now and leaves off scolding Merlin for a later time. He shrugs and says resignedly, "He'll tire of me soon enough, I'm sure."

Harry has over fifty years worth of life experience behind that statement and yet a small, deeply hidden part of him aches at the thought.

"Well, then, Merlin, shall we go over tomorrow's recon mission?"

Merlin shakes his head and throws up his arms even though Harry can't see him. Harry's always been a stubborn fool.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy finishes his preliminary assessment of the vintage E30 and logs his hours. He tidies up and washes his hands, and takes one last look at the space - his dream setup, really - garage-slash-workshop, quality tools, there's even a MakerBot and a small CNC mill in one corner.

Eggsy sighs. Not only is he in love with the man, and the car, now he wants to live in Harry's house as well.

He knocks on the door which leads directly into Harry's kitchen before opening it and stepping inside. 

It seems Eggsy can't catch a break with this guy.

Harry is standing by the stove, wearing the tracksuit bottoms he had on Friday morning when he went to pick up his car, and a threadbare RAMC t-shirt. He's also wearing an apron, and he's cooking, and it smells absolutely divine.

Eggsy's gonna clog up the shower at this rate, what with Harry providing so much prime material for his spank bank. He doesn't drop to his knees - to offer a blowjob, his hand in marriage, both - but it's a near thing.

Eggsy shuffles closer to Harry, "Guv, that smells amazing," and right on cue Eggsy's stomach gives an embarrassingly loud growl.

Harry laughs, "Chicken marsala, served over pappardelle. I'm fully expecting you to stay for dinner and keep me company, Eggsy."

"I'd love to Harry, gotta call me mum first though."

Eggsy tears himself away from Harry's side and dials a number on his phone. "Hey mum, 's me. I've just finished work, yeah, bit of overtime ... Oh did he tell you?" Eggsy looks over at Harry then lowers his voice a little, "You n' Daisy gonna be OK for a bit? Dean left the garage in the afternoon, was afraid he might be startin' early ... Was gonna grab some dinner before headin' home but I can come home if ... Yeah? You sure? ... OK thanks mum, luv ya."

Harry's plating the food. "Everything all right, Eggsy?"

"Yeah, 's fine."

Eggsy grabs the silverware and helps set the table.

"Was you in the army, then, Harry?" Eggsy asks, pointing to his t-shirt.

"I was in the middle of training to be a combat doctor when I received word of my uncle's death. I decided to follow his footsteps and become a tailor instead."

"Lot less exciting, innit?"

"You'd be surprised, Eggsy."

They have a pleasant dinner, of which Eggsy has three servings. 

Eggsy builds up enough courage to talk to Harry about his business proposal. As usual when he's nervous, Eggsy runs his mouth.

"I mean, so far I've only received a few phone calls and maybe five, six actual jobs, but I've a feelin' it's gonna blow up, guv, every day there's more n' more folks callin', had to get anover batch of business cards made. If it does turn into a big deal I need to be in charge of the money - what if I need to hire more people or summat? So I was thinkin' of askin' Dean to keep the sedan and limo repair jobs separate, and for me to take control of that portion, I mean I'll still look in on them other jobs, 'course, and maybe it won't even be big enough to make a whole lotta difference, it's not more money for meself I'm after exactly, though that would be nice, I just wanna build something on me own terms, have some control, otherwise this opportunity'll slip right through me fingers, seems like Dean's always out to ruin things..."

"Eggsy," Harry says carefully so as not to startle him and waits until Eggsy meets his gaze and stops talking, "I think that's a brilliant plan."

Eggsy lets out a breath while Harry continues, "Now you'll have to make a move soon, before it really does blow up, otherwise Dean will want a cut of it, a huge one, no doubt."

"Yeah, guv! Thas what I was thinkin', the man's got no business sense, he won't even recognize no potential or nothin', now's the time to pounce on 'im."

"You have to lock him into a contract of some sort, make him sign something. I'm sure you've done some rudimentary number crunching, but don't show him any of it. Play down the fact that it might become big business. All you need is a simple statement, ceding that portion of the business to you."

They spend the next hour going through specifics. Harry gives Eggsy the name of a solicitor who apparently 'owes Harry a favor' and will give Eggsy some advice for free. Harry suggests Eggsy will still need to appease Dean with a cut of the profits, and together they come up with a fair percentage that should cover the use of the garage and tools.

They bring steaming mugs of tea into the living room and Harry lets Eggsy prattle on, enjoying how animated he is when he's excited, how he talks with his hands and makes silly faces.

Merlin was right. It has been a long time since Harry's had such a bright presence in his life.

 

**+**

 

Eventually they get back to the original reason for Eggsy's visit.

"Well, Eggsy? What's the verdict?" Harry scrunches up his face as if he's afraid to hear how much this project will cost him.

"Car's in great condition, guv, doesn't have too many kms on it considering it's as old as I am," Eggsy says with grin.

Harry nods. He'd been Galahad for a few years already when he bought the car so he rarely needed it, with all manner of Kingsman transport at his disposal.

"Ya know, wiv all the parts still bein' original and all, you could probably get a real good price for it."

Harry gives him a smug smile, "You ought to know by now, Eggsy, it's not about the money for me."

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "Alright, ya prick."

Eggsy pulls out his notes and gets down to business, which Harry finds eternally endearing. Eggsy could over quote Harry by a factor of a hundred and Harry would fork over the money without hesitation.

Eggsy goes through a checklist of work that needs to be done on the car. He starts off with the little things - gaskets, seals, and bumpers to be replaced, the rubber disintegrating over time, and moves on to larger things that need replacing - differential mounting, steering wheel, front exhaust box.

It's not too long a list, all things considered, no major engine overhaul required.  

"Now, the next part here, this is optional but I'd recommend it, for preservation, so to speak. We'd have to strip the underside - you've got a floor jack in your shop so we can use that - by the way, you've got a real nice setup in there, guv, d'ya do a bit o' work now n' then?"

"I dabble a bit," Harry admits, "Not so much with the cars, just little gadgets and things, nothing noteworthy, Eggsy, I won't be filing patents or anything. I use the MakerBot or the mill to replace things I've broken around the house, and on occasion I'll tinker with my computer when it's acting up."  _To spite Merlin, mostly,_  Harry says to himself.

"S'all good, mate, I really like that 'bout you," Eggsy is quiet and gives him a thoughtful look for a few seconds before continuing, "Also means I don't hafta bring over a bunch of tools from the garage - I mean, if thas alright with you, I'd rather do the work at your place rather than drive 'er over to the garage."

"Yes, of course, which reminds me," Harry gets up and fishes around a small drawer in a table by the main entrance, "Here's a key to the back fence and the garage so you can let yourself in whenever you like. I have a few business trips coming up, and as I've mentioned to you before, my schedule at the shop tends to be a bit erratic."

Eggsy takes the keys eagerly. Keys to Harry's house! OK, just the garage, but, baby steps... 

"So, guv, as I was sayin', we take out the bumper and under-tray, sill skirts, wha'ave you, nothing major but there's a bit of surface corrosion under there. We'll give 'er a good wash, then we put on a bit of Kurust and etch primer then spray a bit o' Gravitex and she'll look good as new."

"Sounds great to me, Eggsy," Harry says when Eggsy's done, and gives him the go-ahead to start.

It's late by the time Eggsy gets up to leave.

Harry apologizes for keeping him so late. "Are you sure you don't want a lift home, Eggsy? I should have a bike rack somewhere we can stick on the roadster."

"Nah, guv, I'll be fine." Despite the late hour Eggsy's got a lot of pent-up energy after the day's events and he's looking forward to the bike ride home.

Harry walks Eggsy out, leans on his doorway as he watches Eggsy mount his bike.

Harry yawns. "Oh goodness. Pardon me, Eggsy, perhaps the overseas trip is finally catching up with me. And I've got such an early start tomorrow," he whines.

"Big plans?"

"Visiting an old acquaintance of mine, a professor in Imperial College. I've got to catch him before his first class in the morning."

 

**+**

 

At first Eggsy doesn't think too much of it, he knows Harry's busy and he did warn Eggsy about his unpredictable schedule.

Eggsy's own schedule doesn't leave much time for worrying. He managed to get Dean to sign a simple contract, leaving Eggsy solely responsible for the limos and sedans which an increasing number of private chauffeurs have been bringing to the garage.

Eggsy had caught Dean on a rare good day. He was feeling particularly magnanimous towards Eggsy, had no faith in Eggsy's instincts, and signed the contract in anticipation of the day Eggsy would grovel back to him after his failed experiment.

But a week passes and Harry hasn't returned any of Eggsy's calls or texts. 

Eggsy's been to Harry's house three times to work on the E30, and each time the house has been dark and silent. 

Two weeks pass and still radio silence from Harry, still no lights on in Harry's house.

Three weeks pass.

A month passes and Eggsy's ticked off most of the items on his checklist for the E30. He's spent a fair amount of money, even digging into his own savings because he knows in his heart Harry's not the type to skip out on payment, and besides, nothing's stopping Eggsy from driving off with both collectible cars.

If it wasn't for Dean hounding him about the unpaid work order Eggsy wouldn't care about the money.

He's worried sick over Harry.

Five weeks pass and Eggsy gets desperate. There are no emergencies he has to tend to at the garage, so he inputs the shop address from Harry's business card into his phone GPS and hops on his bike.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy chains his bike to the fence in front of Kingsman Tailors on Savile Row.

He looks up at the window display and nearly collapses in a heap of tears at the sight of a black umbrella with gold accents and a beautiful curved wooden handle.

A bell chimes merrily when he opens the door and steps inside.

If the shopkeeper's surprised to see Eggsy's type in his shop he doesn't show it. He gives Eggsy a pleasant smile and says, "Good afternoon, sir, how may we be of service?"

Before Eggsy can respond, the door to a fitting room opens and out steps a woman, about Eggsy's age, wearing a bespoke suit, dark blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail, and a man, maybe a couple of years younger than Harry, completely bald but it suits him, wearing a military-inspired jumper with suede patches at the shoulders.

Eggsy thinks he catches a fleeting look of recognition on the man's face, although that would be impossible, Eggsy's never met him before in his life.

Eggsy swallows and says, so softly the others have to strain to hear him, "Um yeah, hi, sorry, don't mean to bother no one, just wonderin' if Harry Hart works here?"

The bald man and the young woman exchange looks.

She steps forward, gives Eggsy a kind smile and extends out a hand, "Hi, my name's Roxanne, but call me Roxy."

She takes Eggsy's hand in both of hers and says, "I'm so sorry you weren't informed, sir, but Harry's been in an accident."

Eggsy pales and his knees nearly give out. "Wot?! An accident?!"

The man steps forward, "I'm sorry, Mr. -?"

"Oh, Eggsy, I mean, Gary Unwin, but I go by Eggsy. I'm Harry's mechanic, been finishing up a job for him, 'aven't heard from him in weeks and he weren't returnin' my calls or texts or nothin', 's why I came by here." 

"Pleased to meet you, Eggsy," the man says in a light Scottish brogue, "My name's Merlin, Roxy and I are colleagues of Harry's."

"Is Harry gonna be alright?"

Merlin puts a hand on Eggsy's shoulder, "Harry's been in a coma these past few weeks. His MRI shows no signs of concussion, no direct brain trauma at all. We need to have patience, Eggsy, but there's hope."

"What happened?"

"An accident in a chemistry lab in Imperial College," Roxy replies, "A small explosion, but Harry was in very close proximity."

Eggsy runs a hand through his hair, tugs at it in frustration, "Where is he - which hospital? I gotta see him."

"Private hospital, I'm afraid, Eggsy, it's not open to the public."

Eggsy looks devastated. "I ain't gonna talk to him or nothin', I just wanna see him."

Merlin squeezes Eggsy's shoulder, "I'm sorry, lad, but please, leave us your phone number and I promise you'll be the first to know of any change in his condition." It's not like Harry has much in the way of family, so it's an easy promise for Merlin to make.

Eggsy scribbles his mobile number on the back of one of his business cards and hands it to Merlin.

Roxy and Merlin exchange another look, as if communicating telepathically.

"Eggsy," Roxy says, "I'm so sorry no one thought to contact you. You mentioned you had finished the repair job? We will absolutely take care of the bill, it's the least we can do."

Eggsy's far more concerned about Harry's condition than the unpaid bill, but if the account's settled at least it'll get Dean off his back.

He sniffles and mumbles, "Yeah, alright, fanks, but I haven't got the line item receipt wiv me at the moment."

"No worries," Merlin says eagerly, "Roxy will drop by the garage tomorrow and take care of everything."

Roxy nods, ponytail bouncing.

They watch as Eggsy exits the shop, a crestfallen look on his face and shoulders hunched.

Merlin turns to Roxy as soon as Eggsy's out of earshot. "Do stake out the garage, if you would, Lancelot. Galahad's placed an enormous amount of trust in the young lad for knowing him such a short amount of time, I want to make sure his trust isn't misplaced."

"Yes, Merlin."

 

**+**

 

Roxy enters the front of the garage and walks toward the reception area, posture straight, umbrella's curved handle tucked into the crook of her arm.

Dean's leaning on the counter, counting bills from the till tray and chewing loudly on an unidentified substance. When he catches sight of Roxy he calls out, "Look sharp, boys, lil princess 'ere come to kiss one a' yous frogs."

"Actually, I'm here to settle a bill. I've got the work order number right here."

Roxy raises an eyebrow and looks over her shoulder in the direction of the jeers and whistles coming from said frogs. Three men, no sign of Eggsy. He must be in the service area in the rear of the garage.

Dean ignores the slip of paper with Harry's work order number and eyes Roxy appreciatively. "Nice suit, luv, but your mum oughtta put ya in a dress, show off yer trim lil figure, eh?"

Roxy can sense the three men approaching her.

"Ay, guv," Rottweiler sneers, "Tell 'er she can keep some o' the cash, yeah, we can take 'er out back, give tha' posh mouth sumfin' a' work on, yeah?"

Poodle pipes up, "I heard posh girls luv a bit o' rough."

Roxy sighs and turns to face the goons.

"Manners. Maketh. Man," Roxy says, "Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

She hooks the Rainmaker's handle over Poodle's wrist and twists his arm up before he can grab her ass, then gives a sharp kick to the back of his knees to bring him down.

She takes advantage of the momentary confusion, holds the umbrella parallel to the ground, turns her body as she pushes Rottweiler around and gives him a final strong shove into the counter using the butt of the Rainmaker's handle, where he crumples to the ground.

The final victim, the largest one, looks torn as to whether he should run or fight. Roxy rolls her eyes at him.

Eggsy walks in to catch Roxy wielding the Rainmaker like a baseball bat, landing a strong blow to the big goon's lower back, then tripping him up so he lands forward on his knees, face hitting the edge of the counter on his way down.

Dean's mouth is agape. He makes a hesitant move toward Roxy but big goon, gasping for air and mouth bleeding, holds up his hand to stop him, "Guv, it ain't worth it, just let 'er go."

Eggsy runs in, fuming, "Dean, the fuck is goin' on? Miss Roxanne's here to pay off that big job I been workin' on, the bill you been naggin' me about, and you're fuckin' harassin' her?! Get the hell out! And take yer useless thugs wiv ya."

Dean, dumbfounded and stunned, unable to reconcile petite Roxy with the damage done to his crew, does as he's told for once and the four of them stumble out of the garage.

Eggsy's face is completely red, "Roxy, I am so, so sorry about that, I'll take sumfin' off Harry's bill -"

"Don't be ridiculous, Eggsy, I can handle myself," she beams at him and tugs at her waistcoat to tidy herself up. The umbrella looks no worse for wear, its nylon folds tightly held in by the strap.

"I can see that, Roxy, but that don't make it OK, they've got no right." Eggsy looks mortified.

Roxy walks around the counter to give Eggsy a hug, because she liked him the moment she met him, and he looks like he needs one. 

"Sorry, Roxy, I hate 'em so much, you've no idea."

"Eggsy, if you say sorry one more time I'll beat you over the head with my umbrella," she takes an envelope from her inner jacket pocket, "Now, how much does Harry owe you?" She looks around the counter and sees the itemized work order. She purses her lips and studies it line by line, then, satisfied with the prices, counts out the cash.

Eggsy just stares at her. She and Harry are the strangest fucking tailors he's ever met in his life.

"Now, how much did you contribute out of your own pocket? I'll pay you separately, and we won't deduct it from the work order so that your wonderful boss won't demand you give it back. It's Harry's money, he won't mind a bit."

She smooths her ponytail and smiles at Eggsy. "Well, now that's settled, you'll take your break and have coffee with me."

"Let me treat you at least," Eggsy says weakly.

"Absolutely not."

 

**+**

 

They walk over to Starbucks together, Roxy's ponytail bouncing, umbrella swinging.

"I should get me one of them brollies," Eggsy says, looking at the umbrella, "Same one as Harry's, yeah? Prolly the only thing I can afford at your shop."

Roxy smirks. "Yes, Eggsy, I'm sure there's a model to fit your budget."

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "Not that one, though?"

"Definitely not this one."

Eggsy shakes his head and opens the door for her.

They grab two available armchairs and Roxy asks Eggsy for his order. 

"Flat white, please."

"Fancy."

"'s how I roll, bruv."

The two of them become friends instantaneously. Eggsy asks her where she learned to fight like that.

"My uncle. He wanted to make sure I could defend myself against any threat."

"Was he a fighter, into martial arts 'n all that?"

"No, he's a tailor too."

They talk until it's time for Eggsy to go back to the garage. He makes Roxy promise him again that they'll give him a call if anything changes.

She gives him another hug and he opens the cab door for her - what is it with these cabs appearing out of nowhere? They must have an app or something.

They exchange phone numbers and set a date to have a drink at the pub.

 

 

 

A week later Eggsy gets the call.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The car:  
> 
> 
> If blues-y and classic rock (cuz Harry's an oldie - but a goodie!) are your thang, here's [Harry's Z8 playlist](http://8tracks.com/hartwinning/bmw-z8) and [tracklist](http://41.media.tumblr.com/a26326f28597d86a15c006dd27a9491c/tumblr_ns9wtyFPgw1r4pwt8o1_1280.png). No joke I signed up for 8tracks like two days ago just for fanfic fanmixes so yeah...
> 
> Very excited for next chapter's guest star, y'all!!!


	3. 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and pining mostly, post-coma reunion (but heed the slow burn tag), sleepy!Eggsy, a midnight drive because we can't leave off without Harry admiring Eggsy's handiwork now can we, tinker!Harry (tailor!soldier!spy!) since I'm a bit obsessed with the fact that in the movie not even Merlin could crack the password to Harry's glasses feed, and some very very sketchy science.

 

 

 ** _III. 1990 BMW E30 M3 Sport Evolution, Part 2_**  
  
  
  
  
Eggsy hasn't stopped grinning at his phone ever since he received Roxy's text message, with a picture of Harry attached.  
  
Harry looks pale, and he needs a haircut, but he's smiling, his dimples more prominent due to weight loss. He has one hand in the pocket of a regal red dressing gown and the other covering a third of the screen, a millisecond too slow to block Roxy's shot.  
  
After weeks of imagining the worst, it's the best thing Eggsy's seen in over a month.  
  
It was Roxy who called Eggsy as soon as Harry woke up. She told Eggsy that Harry had inquired about him first thing and that Harry would give him a call very soon, but in the meantime she'd be more than happy to pass a few messages along.  
  
"Tell Harry to take as much time as he needs, Roxy, the E30's ready to be taken out for a spin whenever he is - boy, she's a beauty, got 'er all polished up, as shiny as Harry's shoes! The garage is doin' real well, I'm freakin' out about how fast business is growin' - actually maybe don't tell him I'm freakin' out, don't want him to worry too much."  
  
Roxy puts Eggsy on speakerphone for Harry's and Merlin's benefit, as well as for hers, it would be easier than trying to follow Eggsy's nonstop babble, let alone remember everything to pass on to Harry.  
  
"Let him know I watered them herbs and rosebushes in his back garden while I was workin' on the car, also the lil trees by the front door - but don't tell him I climbed the balcony to water the plants up there too.  
  
And I been to the tailor shop! Met you n' Merlin, but I'm guessin' you told Harry that first thing. You gotta tell him 'bout how you beat up on Dean n' his goons! They kept tryna get me to tell 'em who you were, all threatenin' like, and I just shut 'em down, said you was smart for learnin' how to defend yourself 'gainst fuckers like Dean n' his crew, walkin' around preyin' on innocent women. I said soon as Daisy can walk steady Imma teach her some self defense too. Told 'em they was lucky you didn't file no complaint, ya know lots of important folk, coulda had the coppers in the garage nosin' around, who knows what they woulda found. That shut 'em up right quick, haven't mentioned you since, 'course I fink it's cuz they scared a yous...  
  
"Oh, and Roxy, make sure to tell Harry he's not allowed to do sumfin like tha' ever again, if he gets himself hurt again I'll smash his lovely face in, swear down, he's a right prick for gettin' himself blown up, maybe he shouldn't be allowed to leave his house for a while, fuckin' wanker nearly givin' me a heart attack..."  
  
Harry has a hand over his mouth trying to stifle a laugh and Merlin glares at him, apparently reserving a spot in the queue, right behind Eggsy, to smash Harry's face in if he ever gets himself in another coma. Harry is Merlin's oldest and closest friend and any scenario which doesn't involve the two of them growing old together is simply unacceptable (Merlin gave up on the hope that Harry would eventually join him in baldness when Harry turned 50 with a full head of hair).  
  
When Eggsy finally runs out of breath Roxy cuts in quickly and promises to let him know as soon as Harry's released from the hospital.  
  
"Ta, Roxy, you're the best."  
  
  
  
**+**  
  
  
  
Harry's throat hurts a bit, his mouth is dry and cottony and his voice is a bit hoarse, but he gives Eggsy a call as promised. The phone call doesn't last long and it's actually Eggsy who cuts the conversation short after just a few minutes.  
  
"You sound fuckin' knackered, guv. Imma let you go, you need to rest up."  
  
Harry doesn't argue. "You'd think being asleep for over a month straight would be energizing, but it's quite the opposite - I've never felt so exhausted in my life, Eggsy."  
  
Harry elects to stay at the Kingsman estate instead of recuperating at his own home. He goes for long-distance runs, frequents the pool and the gym, re-builds the muscles which have softened slightly with inactivity. It's his endurance which has suffered most from the coma. His accuracy in the firing range proves unaffected - with over 20 years of field experience behind him, it would take a lot more than a month-long coma to destroy that particular muscle memory.  
  
After their short phone call Eggsy seems overly cautious with Harry's condition and doesn't call him again.

That doesn't stop Eggsy from texting Harry every chance he gets.

-  
  
_i miss u  
  
kno ur throat hurts but  
  
ur voice is real sexy guv    
  
nice n low  
  
just like _ _that 1 time_

 _on our coffee date_   _  
  
when u said  
  
i couldn't handle a bloke like u  
  
meanwhile  
  
i ain't the one gettin myself blown up so...  
  
-  
  
oi m8 u home yet  
  
mum n i q'd for hours for a valentine sim card  
  
wanted to get u one  
  
but only 1 per customer  
  
wankers    
  
but free texts 4eva m8!!!  
  
-  
  
u should get a sim card too  
  
free calls  
  
u can leave me messages  
  
w ur sexy voice yeah  
  
ur reg voice is sexy 2 tho_

_-_

_u home yet guv  
  
can i come see u  
_  
-  
  
Merlin catches sight of Harry, one hand holding his phone, the other pinching the bridge of his nose. At first Merlin's alarmed that it might be some sort of residual head injury but he notices that Harry's smiling.  
  
"Eggsy?" Merlin guesses.  
  
Harry nods, "It appears I am the lucky beneficiary of Eggsy's free unlimited texting, courtesy of Valentine."  
  
Merlin smiles affectionately before his expression turns more serious.  
  
"Speaking of Valentine, we've examined the footage from your glasses and it appears the explosion was caused by an implant in Professor Arnold's neck, just here, under the scar," Merlin says, zooming in on an image captured by Harry's glasses, "Your hardware picked up the signal that triggered the explosion and we've managed to trace the IP address it originated from. It's registered to none other than..."  
  
"The Valentine Corporation?" Harry finishes.  
  
"Correct," Merlin says with a particularly pronounced rolling 'r', then follows by muttering under his breath, "Which we could have found out a month earlier had you not encrypted your glasses feed."  
  
Harry ignores that last statement and says, "I think Mr. Valentine and I should have a tête-à-tête."  
  
"He's having a gala fundraiser this Friday evening, I'll try to get you an invitation. Not quite a private setting, but perhaps it's better that way since this will be your first time back in the field," Merlin says as he taps away at his clipboard. "Lancelot is in already - her parents have secured a place on the guest list on their own, so she'll be going as herself. I'll have her scope out the premises, gauge what sort of security system Valentine has in place. I've also placed Bors among the catering staff, although apparently Mr. Valentine has quite eclectic taste in cuisine, so far they've only been given directives for the wine list and an order to set up several deep fryers."  
  
"Now Galahad," Merlin says, looking down at Harry above the rim of his glasses which are perched at the end of his nose, like a nanny scolding a petulant child, "you're under strict orders to avoid strenuous activity. If anything happens at the gala you are to let Lancelot and Bors handle it, under no circumstances are you to join in the fray."  
  
Harry rolls his eyes. "Fine. Anything else?"  
  
"Yes," Merlin says, pushing his glasses back up, "I'm not entirely sure how this ties in with Valentine, if it even does, but you are aware that since you've been out, hundreds of VIPs have gone missing - no ransom notes, exactly like Professor Arnold?"   
  
Harry nods.

"The guest list for this gala is filled with people who fit the profile for potential kidnapping victims, so keep that in mind as you charm your way through the crowd."

"Will do, Merlin."

"Now then," Merlin says, giving Harry a pointed look and tucking his clipboard under his arm, "what are you going to do about Eggsy? You should have seen the look on the boy's face when he found out you were injured. I've never been on the receiving end of one but I'm sure it was pure heartbreak I witnessed."

Harry groans. He has no answers for Merlin when it comes to Eggsy. He can't quite make sense of the warm feeling in his chest and the stupid smile he can't wipe off his face whenever he thinks about the young mechanic. In a rare display of cowardice, Harry would much rather deal with the Valentine mess than confront his feelings for Eggsy.

"Secure me an invitation to the gala, Merlin, then worry about my love life."  
  
"I'm multi-tasking!" Merlin protests.

 

**+**

  
  
His throat's been healed for several days now but Harry intentionally lowers his voice and fakes a rasp while he leaves Eggsy a voicemail the morning of the gala, "Hello Eggsy, it's Harry. I've finally been released from hospital. Unfortunately I have to attend a ghastly gala dinner tonight - several of our most loyal customers are attending, otherwise I'd skip it entirely. However, if you could carve out a small chunk of time this weekend to spend with an old man, I would love the pleasure of your company."  
  
  
  
**+**  
  
  
  
"That's quite an unusual pair of prosthetics, Merlin," Harry says over comms, voice sharp and menacing, while taking a healthy sip of the excellent '45 Château Lafite to try and absorb some of the grease from his McDonald's dinner - certainly not his first choice for a post-convalescence meal, "Do those blades look sharp enough to slice a man cleanly in half do you think?"  
  
The bitter edge in Harry's tone sets off alarm bells in Merlin's head.

James, the former Lancelot, was well-liked among the Kingsmen. Harry and Merlin in particular were hit hard by James's death. They were both present during his final recruitment test, when an unfortunate accident befell the other trainee, thus making James Lancelot by default. James was affable, always ready with a joke and a smile, flirted with everyone under the sun. The fact that his killer is walking free does not sit well with the knights.

Nonetheless, Harry exacting revenge on Gazelle, Valentine's henchwoman, at tonight's gala would be a shitshow of epic proportions which Merlin would do anything to avoid. There are still too many unanswered questions surrounding James's last mission, including the connection between Professor Arnold and Richmond Valentine. If Gazelle is tasked with protecting Mr. Valentine, currently the tech sector's wealthiest and most influential entrepreneur, then she is obviously not someone to be trifled with, especially by an agent who was cleared for field duty just the day before.  
  
"Galahad, it's nearly 10pm. Given it's your first day back in the real world perhaps you should call it a night, get some rest," Merlin urges, "We'll reconvene tomorrow, during your debrief, and we'll get Lancelot's and Bors's reports as well."

When Merlin doesn't get a reply from Harry he tries a different tactic - praise. "Good work spotting the neck scars, Galahad. We're compiling a list of names based off facial recognition from your feed as we speak. Well done."  
  
Harry isn't tired yet, quite the opposite in fact, but the longer he stays the more he'll be itching for a fight. He knows this is neither the time nor the place for a showdown with Gazelle, not to mention such a scene would be the exact opposite of the "high level of discretion" with which Kingsmen were supposed to operate. He begins a leisurely tour of the room, shaking hands and making his excuses, before finally taking leave of Valentine himself.

Harry didn't get much out of the short conversation they had earlier. They traded obscure references and innuendos, forced each other to read between the lines, neither of them confirming nor denying the vague accusations they volleyed back and forth. Valentine and Harry were equally matched in the delicate art of bullshitting, so it was no surprise that they parted, each having learned nothing of value about the other.  
  
"Merlin," Harry taps in when he's comfortably seated in the Kingsman Bentley and on the way back to Stanhope Mews, "Have you ever heard the quote 'it's a fine line between genius and insanity'? At the moment I've only got my instinct to go on, but I get the feeling Valentine is about to cross that line."  
  
Roxy's voice chimes in over the open comms channel, "I feel a bit unsettled, too, Galahad. I'll take a look around the building, there's a password-protected elevator I'm particularly curious about."  
  
"Be careful, Lancelot, and stay clear of Gazelle," Merlin warns, "You do not want to go the way of your predecessor, and I'd rather wait another 17 years before training a new batch of recruits."  
  
  
  
**+**  
  
  
  
It's Friday evening, around 10pm, and Eggsy's scowling at the dark windows of Harry's house. He makes a quiet, desperate whine and stomps his foot before remembering that Harry had mentioned he was attending some fancy gala dinner tonight.

Eggsy sighs, slumps his shoulders in defeat, and sits down on the small step in front of Harry's door. He'll give it half an hour and if Harry's not back by then... who the fuck knows, he's run out of ideas.

Eggsy's exhausted, having spent every day at the garage, working well before sunup until well past midnight. He'd been getting 3 or 4 hours of rest per evening on average, less if Daisy was being fussy or Dean was deep in a bottle.

It wasn't just Eggsy's portion of the business which benefited from his marketing efforts, but the garage as a whole. Eggsy thought it was just word-of-mouth, from David and increasingly David's chauffeur colleagues, but a couple of customers in the past week had cited positive reviews on Yelp as the reason for choosing Dean's Auto Repairs. Eggsy was so excited - two of the reviews even mentioned him by name! - he promptly texted Harry links to the reviews. Everything's falling into place; even a simple thing like a full garage, so busy that there are cars spilling into the front parking area, is enough to attract new business and walk-in customers.

In addition to being chief mechanic for the entire garage, Eggsy also took on the roles of purchasing manager, accountant, scheduler, and everything in between for the separate limo/sedan business. It was the paperwork that kept Eggsy working late at night, filling out purchase orders, reconciling them with receivers, figuring out which bills were due in the coming week, keeping a tight lid on finances and tracking cash flow down to the last penny. He had zero prior experience with the business side of things, but he knew that if he put the necessary paperwork off for just one day it would be too easy to fall into bad habits and things could quickly spiral out of control. 

Eggsy's crude calculations told him he could probably afford to hire another mechanic, but he was scared shitless at the thought of being directly responsible for another person's paycheck. He'd be on the brink of taking out an ad in classifieds, then panic would set in and his imagination would run wild - what if he couldn't sustain the growth, what if his business failed? They were valid concerns but the one thing truly holding him back was his fear of being unable to care for people who depended on him. 

Eggsy did as much as he could on little rest and by the time Friday rolled around he was able to get out of work at a decent hour. He was looking forward to a nice long nap this evening, which is of course why Dean decided it would be a good night to come home pissed and looking to kick something. 

_Fuckin' Murphy's law, innit?_

Dean lunged at Eggsy as soon as he walked in the door. Eggsy couldn't even tell what the fuck Dean was on about this time, his speech was slurred beyond coherence. Fortunately Dean was too far gone, too uncoordinated to do much damage, and despite his tired state Eggsy was able to parry most of the blows. Dean managed two good hits - one to Eggsy's face and a blow to his forearm using an empty beer bottle - before Eggsy used what little strength he had left to knock Dean out onto the couch, where he promptly passed out.  
  
Eggsy felt bad leaving his mum and Daisy, who were safely locked inside her bedroom, in the apartment, but after the week he had Eggsy didn't have it in him to deal with his troubles at home on top of his troubles at work. He thought it unlikely Dean would wake up before morning anyhow, and by then the alcohol will have worn off.   
  
He left the flat and bounded down the stairs, more to keep warm than anything else, he had no particular destination in mind. It was too cold to sleep outdoors now, otherwise he'd pick a park bench and sleep until he's nudged awake by London's finest.

He reached the ground floor of the estate and ran into some of his mates, who were on their way to South London to begin the weekend's carousing. He hitched a ride with them and despite their protestations had them drop him off somewhere near the Hyde Park tube station (amidst whoops and jeers from Ryan and Jamal, who knew of only one of Eggsy's acquaintances wealthy enough to live in that neighborhood), before they made their way across Vauxhall Bridge.

 

**+**

  
  
Eggsy's face is buried in his forearm as he sits on Harry's doorstep. It's so peaceful in Harry's neighborhood, so blissfully quiet. If he wasn't afraid he'd get mistaken for a gutter rat and arrested for loitering, he could probably fall asleep like this. Eggsy does in fact start to nod off when the bright lights of an approaching car jolt him awake.

As Eggsy watches Harry step out of the car, bathed in the soft glow of the decorative lamps perched by the doors of the town houses, he thinks maybe he's fallen asleep and this is some sort of dream sequence. Harry's wearing a tuxedo -  _christ_  can the man wear a tuxedo - his bow tie's undone and draped over his neck, and his starched white shirt is unbuttoned to just below his collarbone.

 _Straight to the spank bank_ , Eggsy thinks. Maybe he won't even stand up, just fall straight to his knees, give Harry a welcome home present while treating his stuffy neighbors to a good show.  
  
Except the enormity of almost losing Harry hits Eggsy as he watches him saunter over. Harry's had such a positive influence on Eggsy despite their short acquaintance. It's why Eggsy's here, instead of with his mates. One word, one look from Harry is enough to dispel Eggsy's fear of inadequacy, enough to make him believe in himself again and rise up to any challenge.

Eggsy stands on the step so he's closer to Harry's height. He resists the urge to fall into Harry's arms, instead he clenches his jaw and curls both hands into fists along his sides.   
  
Finally Harry's close enough that Eggsy gets a whiff of his intoxicating cologne.

"You fuckin' wanker."

"Oh, Eggsy," Harry says, pleading, and his voice cracks just the tiniest bit. He leans in and Eggsy surrenders, throwing both arms around Harry's waist and holding on tight.  
  
"Don't ever do that again," Eggsy mumbles into Harry's shirt.  
  
Harry sighs. He's not quite ready to break the news to Eggsy that his life's in constant danger so long as he remains a Kingsman agent, which he intends to be until death. Harry stays silent, unwilling to make promises he can't keep. Instead he pulls Eggsy closer and rests his head on top of Eggsy's. He's an odd combination of petrol and baby powder but Harry breathes him in, memorizes the unique scent, burrows his face in Eggsy's soft hair.  
  
"Come inside, Eggsy."

 

**+**

  
  
After releasing him from their embrace Eggsy hovers around Harry, keeps him within arm's reach at all times as if he's afraid Harry might disappear again.  
  
Harry's very much surprised to find that it doesn't bother him at all, in fact he finds it rather charming - an invisible Eggsy tether, so to speak. 

Harry deposits Eggsy onto a kitchen stool and gives the Eggsy tether its first test as he walks to the other end of the kitchen to make him a cup of tea - chamomile, Harry decides, after seeing the shadows under Eggsy's eyes appear even darker under the bright lights of the kitchen. Sure enough Eggsy decides the distance between them is too much and walks over to where Harry's standing, despite being so tired he has to lean on the counter to keep himself upright.   
  
Harry wonders what Eggsy's doing at his home so late in the evening. He's not used to people seeking him out just for the pleasure of his company, and quite frankly Eggsy looks too exhausted for this to be a late night booty call. Not that Harry's opposed, despite Merlin's nagging voice in the back of his mind - "No strenuous activity, Galahad!" If Eggsy's up for it, Harry's got enough energy for the both of them, he's ready, willing, and able to do all the work in the bedroom -

Eggsy shrugs off his jacket, wearing only a polo shirt that's seen better days, its edges starting to fray. Eggsy's thinner than he remembers, although Harry's never seen him in anything other than baggy shirts or his mechanic's coveralls. He recalls how Eggsy had scarfed down three servings of the simple dinner Harry had prepared the last time they were in his home together.

But it's the mark on Eggsy's arm that's just beginning to bruise, along with a similar darkening reddish area around Eggsy's cheek which make Harry feel terrible for his inappropriate train of thought earlier. Harry's taken enough hits in his lifetime to know the marks will turn a deep mottled purple in the morning, and it's sufficient explanation for Eggsy's late, impromptu visit.

"Shit," Eggsy says, following Harry's gaze to his arm. He'd forgotten about the bruise. "S'nothin' guv, can't even feel it none."  
  
Harry walks over to the fridge to grab an ice pack.   
  
"You know, Eggsy," Harry says as he lays a clean dish towel over the purpling mark on Eggsy's arm before applying the ice pack, "there are ways to get Dean out of your life without any... repercussions... to yourself. Just say the word, Eggsy, I know some people who can... take care of everything for you."  
  
Eggsy stares deep into Harry's eyes but they're dark, unreadable.  
  
Eggsy considers it for a split second before deciding that his sorry arse isn't worth getting Harry into trouble for. He files Harry's offer in the recesses of his brain.

"Guv, you are the most frightening tailor I've ever met."   
  
Harry laughs and his gaze turns warm and friendly once again. He caresses the mark on Eggsy's cheek before repositioning the towel and ice pack.

They chat comfortably, Harry icing Eggsy's bruises at 15-minute intervals. Eggsy tells him about his long hours at the garage, how he's considering hiring another mechanic but he's afraid of not being able to sustain the recent growth or keep someone employed for an extended period of time. Harry listens closely, as he always does, withholding advice until Eggsy's expressed all his hopes and fears.

Somehow sitting in this bright, warm kitchen with Harry beside him, Eggsy's problems seem a lot less insurmountable than before.

"Perhaps it's not another mechanic you need, Eggsy," Harry says thoughtfully, "maybe a part-time bookkeeper would be a more judicious hire - 'focus on your strengths, hire to your weaknesses' as the old business adage goes. You'll sort out the business side of things in time I've no doubt, you're very intelligent, but with so many new customers it may help to hand over the accounting and paperwork to someone more experienced, while you focus on what you're already very good at."

"Focus on your strengths, hire to your weaknesses," Eggsy parrots quietly, so that he'll remember the phrase in the morning. Makes sense. Come to think of it, Big Goon (Eggsy wonders why Dean never gave him a proper call sign) is actually a decent mechanic. He's the most imposing, physically, of Dean's crew but he's got the most common sense. If he could delegate more responsibility to Big Goon, and hire a bookkeeper, then he could focus on the mechanic jobs and maybe finally have a normal sleeping schedule.   
  
"Finish your tea Eggsy, then it's off to bed," Harry orders gently, as if he could see the wheels churning in Eggsy's mind, "The guest bedroom's all set up for you."

Then a thought occurs to Harry, "Actually, Eggsy, would it be too much trouble to borrow your phone? I'd like to take a closer look at the Valentine SIM card, if you would allow me."  
  
Eggsy doesn't even hesitate, just slides his phone across the counter to Harry.  
  
"Wha's wrong wiv it? Need my passcode, guv?"  
  
"No need, Eggsy, it's the hardware I'd like to take a look at," Harry says, "I'm just the slightest bit curious regarding Valentine's motive in providing these services for free, for the foreseeable future no less. Maybe I've become jaded in my old age but I'm skeptical that this is pure altruism on his part."  
  
"Mmm," Eggsy says, "Too good to be true type o' thing?"  
  
"Precisely. I'll have your phone back together by the morning, I promise."  
  
Eggsy shrugs. Harry can do whatever the fuck he wants to his phone as long as he keeps it in working order (or replaces it if he fucks it up, Eggsy ain't gonna say no to a new phone). Eggsy's snooped around the garage and he's seen bits and pieces of gadgets in various stages of disassembly, so he's aware Harry's a hobbyist. There were lots of high-tech bits lying around the garage, also several pairs of eyeglasses for some odd reason.

"Ain't you tired from your party, Harry?" Eggsy asks, a little bit embarrassed that he's being outdone by a man twice his age.  
  
"I'm actually wide awake, Eggsy," Harry says, thinking he's had enough sleep to last a year, "Might even go for a midnight drive, test out the E30, eh?" Harry adds with a wink. He immediately regrets it as Eggsy straightens, his eyes grow wide as saucers and he blinks owlishly in an attempt to look wide awake.  
  
"I wanna go!!!" Eggsy whines.  
  
"Eggsy, you look like you're about to collapse," Harry scolds as he helps Eggsy off the kitchen stool.  
  
"Nuh-uh," Eggsy says, shaking his head vehemently, grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him toward the garage.

Eggsy's experienced firsthand what life is like without Harry Hart; he can stay awake a few more hours for this opportunity to spend time with Harry.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy gives Harry a run-down of the work he's done on the E30, "... nothin' to it, guv, she was in great shape. A few cosmetic touch-ups, flushed and drained the fluids, scraped the sludge off the valve train and she was ready to go!"

Harry grabs something off the workbench before they get in the car. He holds it up for Eggsy. "Do you know what this is, Eggsy?"

Eggsy gives him a look. "Puh-leeze, Harry," he replies, "I ain't daft. Lots of older makes in the garage, guv, I know what a fuckin' cassette tape is."

Harry apologizes with a shrug of his shoulders and plugs the cassette-auxiliary cable adapter into his iPhone.

Harry turns on the lights, puts the car in neutral and revs it noisily while throwing a cheeky wink at Eggsy, who shakes his head in mock exasperation.

"Wanker."

They don't actually race out of the garage, Harry just wants a leisurely drive around the neighborhood. It's obvious to Eggsy that Harry's an expertly trained driver, up- and down-shifting seamlessly through London's mostly empty streets.

Eggsy steals occasional (ok, frequent) glances at Harry's profile. This 50-year-old Adonis, who acts like Eggsy showing up on his doorstep in the dead of night is the most normal thing in the world, who has such faith in Eggsy when he doesn't even have faith in himself. Harry Hart, fucking weirdo, who wears bespoke suits and coifs his hair then goes home to hack into SIM cards and shit, and who's got a hitman on speed dial apparently - he's the love of his fucking life.

Eggsy chuckles to himself - how did it come to this? He puts his hand over the gear lever when Harry's not looking.

Harry looks amused when his hand lands on Eggsy's as he shifts gears, but he leaves his hand on the lever for the remainder of the drive.

Harry's surprised, somewhat alarmed, at how quickly Eggsy seems to have formed an attachment to him. He recalls their first meeting at the garage. It was boredom that made Harry seek out Eggsy's company that day, but he thought his treatment of Eggsy was nothing beyond what was expected of any human being, nothing more than just basic human kindness. Maybe Eggsy's life was such that even the most basic human kindness was sorely lacking from it.

Harry may be vain and prone to showing off at inopportune times, but even he can admit to himself that Eggsy probably deserves someone better.

Perhaps when he was Eggsy's age, freshly recruited into Kingsman, when he was still deserving of the canonical Galahad legend, he would have been deserving of Eggsy back then. He was by no means the "Perfect" Knight - perfect in courage, gentleness, courtesy, and chivalry - but he gave it his all, tried his damnedest to live up to the title.

25 years later and Harry's witnessed the depths to which humanity can sink. He's been discouraged, repeatedly, by humanity's refusal to learn from past mistakes. He's become bitter and jaded. 

Harry realizes now, driving through London late at night, that people like Eggsy are the reason why he's never lost hope completely, never once considered that his work for Kingsman might all be for nought. Eggsy's more deserving of the Galahad legend at the moment. Well, perhaps the 'courtesy' could use some work. And maybe the 'chivalry'. Gentle, brave Eggsy, pure of heart (if not of mind). He's worth protecting and god help Valentine if Harry finds out he's trying to hurt Eggsy.

Harry sneaks a cautious glance toward Eggsy, which turns into a full-on gaze when he sees that Eggsy's being lulled to sleep by the mellow strains of Beirut's  _Scenic World_ playing softly over the car stereo. 

 

 _♪ The lights go on_  
_The lights go off_  
_When things don't feel right_  
_I lie down like a tired dog_  
_Licking his wounds in the shade_  
  
_When I feel alive_  
_I try to imagine a careless life_  
_A scenic world, where the sunsets are all_  
_Breathtaking, breathtaking ♫_  

 

**+**

  
  
After showing Eggsy to his guest bedroom and leaving him with a change of clothing, Harry pads down quietly to the kitchen, where he left Eggsy's phone sitting on the counter.  
  
He takes it with him into his workshop in the garage. He makes quick work of disassembling the phone, he's done it enough times to perform the task without damaging the phone.  
  
He grabs his laptop, a cheap, basic model he keeps at the workshop. It has a random assortment of software on it, including programs to write G-code for the CNC mill, the software to run the MakerBot, electronic circuit simulators, and SIMTrace, which he's hoping he can use to look into the Valentine SIM card.  
  
He connects the SIM card to the SIMTrace hardware via a flexible PCB cable, then hooks up the assembly to his laptop via USB cable.

SIM cards are notoriously difficult to hack into and he doesn't have the Valentine Corp.'s Ki code, but he's not looking to change anything. In fact he doesn't know exactly what he's looking for, he's just working off a hunch.

It takes over an hour of digging around for Harry to find an anomaly.  
  
"Huh."  
  
He fumbles for his glasses which he'd carelessly thrown onto the workbench and taps in. It's a little past midnight but he suspects Merlin's still at HQ, probably coordinating the gala recon mission which should be drawing to a close right about now.  
  
"Merlin, can we get on a private channel?"  
  
"Certainly, Harry," Merlin says, sensing the urgency in Harry's tone.  
  
"Is everything all right?"  
  
"I'm running one of Valentine's SIM cards through SIMTrace."  
  
"Did you nick one at the gala, Harry?" Merlin's impressed, but also annoyed that Harry wouldn't report something like that. Agents are supposed to report anything they've taken so that handlers can prepare for possible fallout if the item is discovered stolen.  
  
"No, it's Eggsy's, he gave me permission - he's asleep at the moment -"  
  
"Oh bravo, good show, Harry! A brush with death was the final push, was it? Although I did advise against strenuous activity, I hope at least you let him top -"  
  
Harry rolls his eyes, exasperated,  "Nothing happened, Merlin. The boy was simply seeking comfort."  
  
Merlin sighs despondently, "I take it 'comfort' is not the nickname you've given your penis?"  
  
"For fuck's sake, Merlin," Harry says, but the corners of his mouth twitch. "Can we get back to the matter at hand? It's rather urgent."  
  
"Go ahead."

"Merlin, have you ever heard of ultrasound waves being used to control brain activity?"

Merlin scans his mind palace. "Relatively new technology, isn't it? Alternative to the more invasive deep-brain simulation." 

"Yes, Merlin, precisely."

Harry explains further, "For the past eight years researchers have been experimenting with low-frequency, low-intensity ultrasound which can penetrate the skull and activate or silence brain cells. It's intended to treat brain disorders, of course. With ultrasound there's a much better spatial focus than with DBS, and you can access anywhere in the brain."

Merlin tenses up. "I dinnae like where this is going, Harry."

"Merlin, there's a custom modification in Valentine's SIM cards, possibly something that could generate an electrical field when triggered. The transducer must be somewhere in the SIM card as well. I've never heard of ultrasound waves being generated from so small a surface, but Valentine's a fucking genius, Merlin, he could very well have figured something out."

"Holy shit, Harry. Do you really think...?"

 

"Mind control?" Harry suggests.

 

"Mind control," Merlin confirms.

 

 

_**IV. 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1** _

 

 

 _My dearest Eggsy,_  
  
_First things first, I've left a breakfast spread out for you on the kitchen counter; I expect you to eat everything down to the last crumb._  
  
_Do forgive my rude and abrupt departure, rest assured I would not have left you were it not for a dire emergency at work._  
  
_I'd like to have a "tech wizard" friend of mine take a closer look at your SIM card. I realize it's a huge imposition but I did swap out your SIM card and you shouldn't even notice a difference, all your settings and contacts have been ported in. Don't worry about the charges, use your phone as you normally would, make as many calls as you like, and you won't run out of data._  
  
_Make sure you have everything you need when you leave the house, my security company will lock down the house remotely and you won't be able to get in again._  
  
_Give me a call if you need anything, leave a message if I don't answer as I may be with a client._  
  
_I truly am very sorry, Eggsy, I had been looking forward to spending more time with you. It seems the precious few moments we have together are never quite enough for me._

_I will make it up to you as soon as I am able._

 

_Yours,  
HH_

  
  
Eggsy rolls his eyes. Who even writes like that? But he reads the letter several times (internally squealing at "Yours, HH" every time) until he's practically memorized it, then folds it with great care, makes the creases nice and neat before tucking it into his wallet.  
  
Eggsy inspects his phone. Everything seems to be the same except for the absence of the Valentine logo on the upper left corner. Instead of a network name it just says "Private" next to the signal strength bars. Eggsy shrugs it off. He trusts Harry. As long as his phone works he'll leave Harry to his experiments.

Eggsy eats the pile of food as promised - he never seems to realize just how hungry he is until someone offers him food - and packs up a few pastries to take home to his mum and Daisy.  
  
He snaps a picture of the empty trays and coffee mug and sends it to Harry.

  
  
_so mad at u guv_  
  
_shoulda woke me up_  
  
_so i could kiss u g'bye_

-

 _slept like the dead_  
  
_ur bed is magic_  
  
_im never leaving!!!_  
  
_srsly can i stay_  
  
_will u keep me_  
  
_ill be good_  
  
_most of the time_

_-_

_u work 2 hard_  
  
_thx for the food_

_call u l8r yeah_

_miss u_

 

Eggsy cleans up the kitchen and makes up the guest bed before leaving.

He double-, triple-checks to make sure he has his phone with him, then grabs his jacket before opening the door. He's got one foot out the door when an arctic blast hits him.

"Ffffuckin' hell," he swears, and steps back inside into the warmth of Harry's house. He eyes Harry's coat rack. He already fully intends to steal the worn-in RAMC t-shirt Harry had lent him to sleep in - the same one Harry had worn the night before he fell into a coma - and now he's pondering nicking a coat as well. 

Right on cue Eggsy's phone chimes with a text message.

 

_Good morning Eggsy_

_Glad you had a proper breakfast_

_Forgot to tell you, it's very cold outside this morning_

_Grab one of my coats on the rack, it will be too big on you_

_But better than freezing_

_Grab a hat and scarf from the closet too if you want_

_Stay warm_

 

Eggsy grins. He grabs the coat he had his eye on - a short, puffy one with a hood. It's the most casual-looking option so he figures it's the least precious or something.

 

_Thx_

_._

_._

_daddy_

  
  
**+**

 

Eggsy opens the door to his apartment cautiously and peeks in. No sign of Dean on the couch and it's quiet. Eggsy takes that as a good sign and walks over to the kitchen, where he finds his mum preparing breakfast.

He runs up to his little sister and plants several noisy kisses on her plump cheeks and arms. She giggles and runs toward their mother, away from his greedy grasp.

"You alright, mum?" he asks, giving her a less noisy kiss on the cheek and cupping her face to inspect it.

"'M fine, luv," she says, gently lowering his hands, trying not to stare guiltily at the faint bruise on Eggsy's cheek, "Dean left early, said he was off to the garage?"

Eggsy frowns and checks his phone. The garage isn't open for another hour yet, they open later on Saturdays. Unless Harry totally fucked up his messages, no one's called him, so he assumes whatever the emergency is he's not involved, which is totally fine by him.

"Brought some fancy grub, ma," he says, grabbing a plate and laying out an assortment of pastries. "Here, my lil flowa, you'll like this one, yeah? 's got some sweet stuff in the middle. Oops!" Eggsy laughs as Daisy grabs the danish and smears her mouth with jam.

Michelle brightens up, "Oh what a treat! Thanks luv," she says as she sets a mug of tea before him.

"Mmm, my god, these are amazing, Eggsy! Where did you get them?" Michelle eyes his RAMC t-shirt suspiciously, "And where did you get that t-shirt?"'

Eggsy turns bright red all over, from the top of his head to the tips of his ears all the way down his throat. "Spent the night at a friend's," he mumbles. Catching his mum's knowing smile he says, "Ain't like that, ma! Me n' him are just friends, is all."

Michelle's a bit disappointed it's not Roxy. Michelle put on her best sympathetic look when Dean's crew whined to her about Eggsy's umbrella-wielding friend, but she was secretly delighted and was sad to have missed the whole thing.

Maybe she should visit the garage more often, she hasn't been there in a while, and she's so proud of what Eggsy's accomplished.

Regardless, she'd welcome an alien from Mars at this point if it made her son happy. And apparently whoever this bloke was, he was feeding Eggsy pastries (several grades above Tesco's offerings, that's for certain) and providing him a safe haven from Dean.

"Just friends, darlin'? Hard to believe that," she teases, pinching his cheek affectionately.

"Oi, mum!" Eggsy says, batting her hand away and laughing. He looks down at his mug of tea and sighs. "He's older, mum, real posh like, came into the garage wiv a special edition bimmer. Wears these fucking bespoke suits, Savile Row or some shite, prolly cost more n' I make in a year."

"Oi! Language, Eggsy," Michelle chides, jerking her head in Daisy's direction.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "In over me head a bit, mum, to be honest wiv ya, how the fu...dge d'ya put out for a bloke like that? Been textin' him a bunch of kissy emojis but nothin'," he says, half-joking.

Michelle smiles. "Eggsy, babe," she says, "no texting - bit impersonal, yeah? Look him straight in the eye, even if it makes ya nervous. Don't need no grand gestures, just ask him out to dinner, or a pint, be straight with him, make sure he knows exactly what you're askin' of him. No beatin' around the bush, aye?"

"Yes, mum," Eggsy sighs. She's probably right. 

"You know, luv," she says carefully, "when you ain't got your mask on, like you have sometimes, around Dean, around most people actually... everything's written on your beautiful face, clear as day. If this bloke sees what I see, he'll say yes, Eggsy."

Eggsy's pretty sure it's her maternal pride that makes her so sure Harry will say yes, but he nods anyway. 

She pats his hand encouragingly. "Now, how 'bout you and Daisy get dressed, we'll walk to the garage together."

Eggsy beams at her. "Yeah?"

" 'Course, babe, gotta show off all your hard work, yeah?"

 

**+**

 

They walk to the garage, slowly, Daisy preferring her brother's arms to the pram as mode of transport.

Eggsy fills Michelle in on his portion of the business, has a frank discussion with her regarding his difficulty keeping up with the paperwork.

"Harry, thas his name," Eggsy says, ducking his head shyly, "he thinks I should hire a bookkeeper instead of anovver mechanic, 'focus on my strength, hire to my weakness' or sumfin like that, he said."

"You know I used to be a bookkeeper, before Dean came around," Michelle admits, shyly.

Eggsy looks dumbfounded. He vaguely remembers his mother working in an office, but that was a long time ago, and when he was a kid any grown-up job that wasn't football player or fighter pilot or astronaut was lumped into one general, boring category. Dean had come around, promising Michelle he'd take care of everything and that she wouldn't have to work. Eggsy realizes now that it's made his mum completely dependent on Dean financially, made it harder to leave him if she wanted to, and now she's taking care of Daisy full-time.

"Maybe I can help out a bit? I've got an old computer, I mean, real old, luv, your fancy phone's got more features probably," she laughs, "but it's got a good piece of accounting software on it, one of those real pricey ones if you wanted to buy the latest version, but it's got all the important features on it still. I can get you started? Fill out your vendors, pull up some templates? If you want," she adds quickly, not wishing to overstep.

"Ma!" Eggsy yells excitedly then calms down a bit and says earnestly, "I'd love that, I could have Harry transfer the program to my laptop, he's good wiv computers, but that'd be aces, mum, you have no idea, save me a lot of time, yeah?" 

Eggsy gets excited again and Daisy whines, her mode of transport bouncing around too much for her taste, "I can pay you, ma, if you want to work part-time, you can check the books, cash flow ain't a problem, you can work from home, even. Oh mum, this is the best thing -"

Michelle laughs and gives him a sideways hug. "Nah, babe, I ain't takin' your money, you invest it in your business." 

Michelle hesitates. "Maybe... keep it between us for now, yeah?"

Eggsy nods in understanding. "Sure, mum. I love ya."

 

**+**

 

They reach the rear entrance of the garage and are greeted by Dean's loud, angry shouts. 

Michelle and Eggsy exchange looks, and in wordless agreement, she takes Daisy from Eggsy and they turn back toward the estate.

"It'll be alright, mum," Eggsy reassures her, "I'll bring my list of vendors home tonight, you can get started puttin' them into the program, yeah?"

He kisses Daisy, "Be good, Dais, I luv ya."

Eggsy walks into the garage and immediately spots a classic Ford Mustang, which looks to be in mint condition, complete with hood scoop. Normally he'd be excited, popping the bonnet open, checking it out, taking photos, but at the moment the car seems to be the point of contention between Dean and whoever he's yelling at - Rottweiler, it appears.

"Now, Rottie, I seen him,  _wiv my very own eyes mind,_ I seen him kill three men in a bar. Wiv a  _pencil,_ " Dean's shouting, then he shoves Rottweiler hard against the wall, "Wiv. a. fucking. pencil, Rottie."

"How was I s'posed to know who he was, guv? Thought he was retired, livin' in New York n' all, no one fuckin' told me he was here now did they?" Rottweiler pleads.

"Yeah well he is retired, but guess what, he won't be now, will he? Not after you nicked his favorite car. How long do you think we got before he comes after us, huh? You done bad, Rottie, real fuckin' bad. Yous a fuckin' useless piece of shite, now we're all up shit creek."

Eggsy raises his voice over the din. "Who's Mustang is that?"

Silence.

Eggsy locks his gaze on Rottweiler. "Rottie, I ain't gonna ask again, WHO'S FUCKING MUSTANG IS THAT?"

Rottweiler's voice trembles.

"John Wick."

 _SHIT_.

John Wick, the most notorious assassin-for-hire/hitman in the history of ever. John Wick, who once had 77 kills in the span of 72 hours. John Wick, who has a lifetime shot accuracy of 90%.

And now Rottie's gone and nicked his car.

 

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's John Wick (Keanu Reeves) donutting the Mustang wheeeee!!!!:  
> 
> 
> (P.S. No need to watch the movie to follow the events in the next chapter)
> 
> [Here's Harry's "mellow" playlist](https://8tracks.com/hartwinning/g-nite-luv/) (a.k.a. 'let's put Eggsy to sleep so maybe we can fondle him' playlist -_- )
> 
> Skinny Egg with eyebags aww puppy :(  
> 
> 
> Harry's Moncler puffer jacket that Eggsy borrows (no one tell Eggsy that shit costs like $1000+):  
> 


	4. Tesla Model S P90D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-evil!ChesterKing (♥ Michael Caine ♥), more sketchy science (I'd say it's about 80% real, 20% sketchy), JB makes an appearance finally (kind of...), Richmond Valentine goes shopping, Merlin is the best wingman ever, and Eggsy is just a hot mess all around.
> 
> There are time skips because Eggsy dealing with the stolen car is happening simultaneously with Harry dealing with Valentine, I hope it's not too confusing. There's also the time zone difference between London and ::gulp:: Kentucky...

 

 

_**V. 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1, Part 2** _

 

 

_51 50 32N  
 0 56 15W_

_ta mugsy  
u aint useless after all_

 

Eggsy stares at his phone in disbelief.

Several frantic phone calls to Dean and Rottie. Dozens of voicemails left on their phones. Hours of running around, from the council estate to all of the pubs Dean and his crew are known to frequent, round and round he went, even enlisting his mates Ryan and Jamal to try and track the fuckers down. He even asked his mum to call Dean at one point.

One final, desperate voicemail left for Dean, pleading, yelling,  _Pick up the fuckin' phone Dean I ain't got a clue where Rottie lifted the fuckin' car, don't know where John Wick lives, he's givin' us a chance, Dean, we can fix this, all's you gotta do is return the car, no one gets hurt, just GIVE ME A FUCKIN' CALL, PLEASE!_

After all of that, the only thing Eggsy gets in return is a bloody text message from Poodle - not even Dean, fucking coward - with GPS coordinates.

Eggsy glances at the clock on his phone. Two hours until midnight. He inputs the coordinates on his navigation app. An hour and a half drive from the garage to John Wick's house.

_FUCK._

He hotwires the Mustang and floors it to the motorway.

 

**+**

 

It had been a busy Saturday at the garage. Dean and Eggsy were forced to suspend their shouting match when customers started to trickle in.

As Eggsy pointed out, they still had a legitimate business to run, if only for the next few hours or for however long it took for John Wick to make a move.

Rottie, to no one's surprise, took advantage of his bosses' distraction and fucked off to god knows where while Dean and Eggsy were shouting themselves hoarse. Subsequent attempts to reach him led straight to his voicemail.

To the unsuspecting customers it was business as usual at the garage; apparently nothing seemed amiss as no one mentioned the tense atmosphere or the fact that the mechanics were skulking in the shadows, eyes darting left and right for any sign of the legendary assassin-for-hire. 

They knew it was only a matter of time. The fact that they hadn't yet heard from John Wick was merely the calm before the storm.

Eggsy threw himself into his work and distanced himself from Dean and his goons to give them space to figure a way out of the mess  _they_  had made. He was so busy he managed to forget about John Wick's car - he had covered the offending vehicle with tarp to shield it from customers' curiosity and prevent a possible tip-off regarding its whereabouts. 

The Mustang and its owner were brought back to Eggsy's attention when he noticed Dean and his goons casually attempting a retreat.  

"Oi!" Eggsy shouted at them from behind the till as he was reconciling the day's work orders and payments. "You lot ain't done here. You need to figure out what to do with that fuckin' car. You ain't leavin' it here for the rozzers or John Wick to find."

Dean sneered and strode toward Eggsy purposefully, cigarette hanging off the corner of his mouth. "Your name's on the garage as co-owner, Mugsy, or did ya forget? So don't act all high and mighty like you ain't involved. If John Wick comes for Rottie, he'll come for all o' us, including yer sorry arse."

"Wot?! I had nuffin' to do wiv this!"

"Don't matter,  _son_ , you haven't even called it in have ya? So yous involved now, ain't ya? Lil life lesson for ya, Mugsy, it's called aidin' and abettin'," Dean said, punctuating each word with a jab of his finger on Eggsy's chest, "Ya won't be turnin' us in neivver, if ya know what's good for you and yer mum."

Eggsy set his jaw and crossed his arms. "This is your fuckin' mess, Dean, I ain't cleanin' it up. This garage is all I got. You ain't leavin' unless that car's goin' wiv ya, n' I give fuck all where you take it!" 

In a swift, surprise attack, Dean grabbed Eggsy and put out his cigarette on Eggsy's forearm. "Now, me and m'boys," he continued, raising his voice above Eggsy's cries of pain as he motioned to his goons to hold Eggsy in place, "We gonna go down to the pub, have a pint or two, maybe track Rottie down, maybe not. Gotta be honest wiv ya, Eggsy, I ain't got a clue what to do 'bout John Wick's car, but get one thing straight, boy - if we's goin' down, yer comin' wiv."

Dean kneed Eggsy in the stomach before giving his lackeys the go-ahead to release their grip. Eggsy fell to the ground, the breath knocked out of him, helpless to do anything except watch as they cleared out of the garage.

Eggsy lay on the ground and fought back tears.

Everything was going so well. Just this morning he'd been safe and warm in Harry's house. He had a lovely tête-à-tête with his mum over breakfast and held Daisy in his arms as they walked together to the garage.

How quickly the tide had turned. Now, mere hours later, he risked losing everything through no fault of his own.

Eggsy sat up and eventually crawled his way to his office - really just a storage room with a desk in it - and collapsed onto the cot he kept there for days when he couldn't bear the thought of going home to face Dean.

This was before he had the option of camping out on Harry's doorstep, of course, as he had done last night.

Harry.

Eggsy willed himself up. He took Harry's coat off its hook and brought it back with him to the cot. He buried himself under it, pulling the down-filled hood over his face. Fortunately 'eau de Eggsy' hadn't yet replaced Harry's scent. Maybe he should take his coveralls off before the scent of petrol permeated everything.

Eggsy felt safe and warm under Harry's puffer. He was beginning to drift off when his phone rang. "Ugh!" Eggsy muttered while he fished for his phone. There was only one person in the world he was willing to speak to at that moment, and that was -

"Hello? Harry?"

"Hello, Eggsy."

His name in Harry's smooth, chocolate-y voice was better than any painkiller. Eggsy pulled Harry's coat tighter around himself and smiled, the cigarette burn and knee to his stomach all but forgotten. 

"Hi." 

"Eggsy, I'm terribly sorry for leaving you all alone this morning. I thought of waking you but you clearly needed the rest. You looked so peaceful while you slept."

"You was creepin' on me, Harry? Perv."

"My dear, you have no idea the extent of my perversity."

Eggsy giggled. He'd been pulling the wrong sort this whole time; apparently posh middle-aged men who have a regular rotation of triple-syllable vocabulary is what gets him off.

He suddenly recalled his conversation with his mum earlier that day.

Eggsy cleared his throat. "Listen, Harry, I was finkin'... would be real nice to have dinner sometime, yeah?"

"Yes, Eggsy, that sounds absolutely lovely," Harry replied, a bit too casually for Eggsy's taste. He admitted his mum had a point about the direct, face-to-face approach, maybe Eggsy wasn't making his intentions clear enough over the phone.

Eggsy was glad Harry couldn't witness how red his face was at the moment. He burrowed further into his puffer cocoon as if it would help with his embarrassment.

"Um, actually, Harry, I was finkin' like... a proper date, yeah?"

Eggsy couldn't bear the ensuing silence, which felt like minutes when it had actually been just a few seconds, so he blurted out, "I'd really like it if you was my boyfriend, 'arry."

 _Really really really._ Until the words came out of his mouth Eggsy didn't realize how badly he wanted it.

Harry was silent for a few seconds longer before responding, carefully, "I'm afraid I'm too old to be anyone's 'boyfriend' at this point, Eggsy."

Eggsy scoffed at that, "Oi, I don't wanna hear it, guv. How 'bout I be  _your_ boyfriend then?"

There was a long pause before Harry replied, "I would be honored, Eggsy," in a voice so loving and gentle that Eggsy all but melted into Harry's Moncler.

"We would have to consummate the relationship in order for it to be official, though," Harry added in a much drier tone.

Eggsy turned even redder, if that was possible. "I can come over tonight," he managed to squeak out. 

"Ah, about that," Harry began, sounding extremely apologetic, "the reason I called is to let you know that I'll be going overseas for a couple of days. Unfortunately I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning, so I'll be unavailable starting this evening."

Eggsy let out a groan. "God 'arry, you are like, the worst lover ever."

"Oh, so I'm your lover now?" Harry teased.

"You said you didn't wanna be called boyfriend so..."

"Well, Eggsy, I can't promise I'll be the best boyfriend, but I can assure you," Harry dropped his voice down low and purred seductively, "I'll be your best lover."

"Bloody hell, Harry..." Eggsy muttered and wiggled as a tent began to form in his coveralls.

Harry chuckled and Eggsy could almost feel it reverberating through the phone line.

"Now Eggsy, I don't know if I'll be able to reply straight away, but if you need anything at all, however small or large, give this number a ring. If I'm unavailable someone will either pass along a message or help you out directly," Harry said, "I don't want you to feel like I've abandoned you again."

Eggsy sighed. He considered telling Harry about John Wick's car, but in the end decided against it. Eggsy's turning 26 this year, definitely old enough to take care of his own problems. He can't run to Harry for every little thing; he had already crossed a line going over to Harry's house so late last night.

"Yeah, alright. Ta, Harry, safe travels."

"Thank you, Eggsy. We'll sort this out when I get back." 

Eggsy lay on the cot, grinning like a loon and clutching his phone to his chest after talking to Harry.

He was startled out of his reverie by another phone call, this one to the garage.

Eggsy rolled off the cot and forced himself to get up. It was way past closing time but he picked up the phone out of habit, from those days when he'd pick up the phone no matter what time it was, desperate for any business.

"Dean's Auto," he said groggily.

A low, deep voice, American accent, zero intonation.

_"You have until midnight to return my car."_

Click.

Eggsy stood frozen in place, holding the receiver long after John Wick hung up. He looked around fearfully before coming to his senses; if John Wick were in the garage he would have already murdered Eggsy and driven off with his car.

  

**+**

 

Eggsy's been sitting in the same position - legs splayed, arms crossed, jaw set, the brim of his cap pulled down low - in this holding cell, for an hour.

He's been in Holborn Police Station for three, and a harried constable had informed him that no one would get to him until the morning shift, which is another three, four hours away.

He spent the first hour in the cell pacing back and forth, scuffing his trainers on the well-worn, polished cement floor, trying to rid himself of the effects of the adrenaline rush from driving a vintage Ford Mustang at top speed across the mostly empty London streets in the dead of night.

The problem with waiting alone without distractions (they had confiscated his phone and other personal effects), is that most of the time is spent reflecting on one's actions - to feel remorse, regret, anger, panic. Eggsy has no shortage of each of those emotions at the moment, although they're carefully hidden beneath his tough guy stance.

Forefront in his mind is a feeling of resignation. Of course everything had gone to shit just as things were finally looking up. Why Eggsy thought it would be different this time around, that maybe he deserves something good after all he's been through, he'll never know. 

Eggsy thinks about Harry. He tries not to, he knows he'll break if he does, but he's got several more hours alone in the cell until sunrise, and not thinking about Harry is akin to not breathing. Beautiful, mysterious, Harry, with his fluffy hair, cute dimples and long legs, his soothing voice, kind brown eyes and dry humor. Harry, who wears fancy suits and drives fancy cars but has a stuffed dog above the toilet. His unofficial boyfriend, he thinks with a smile. Did that phone conversation even happen? It seems out of place in this shitshow he's found himself in.  
  
Eggsy thinks about his mum and their long overdue heart-to-heart over breakfast. His studious avoidance of Dean had left a gaping hole in their mother-son bonding time; Eggsy has too few memories of meaningful interactions with her which aren't marred by the presence of Dean.

Eggsy thinks about his sister and hides his face in his hands. Little Daisy, always giggling and somehow still quick to laugh despite witnessing so much anger and violence for someone so young. He's let her down, he's broken his promise to take care of her. He never explicitly stated that promise to anyone but it's the driving force behind everything he's ever done to try and rise above what life has dealt him. So far he's failed spectacularly.

If Daisy wasn't around it would be so easy to give up right now, spend a year or two in prison, add 'ex-convict' to his rap sheet which is currently filled with a handful of minor offenses. 

He'd be safe from Dean, safe from the wrath of John Wick, in prison.

But Daisy is there, the light in her eyes not yet gone out, and Eggsy loves her, loves his mum. 

Would Eggsy even have anything waiting for him when he got out of prison?

Harry would move on quickly, that much is certain. Eggsy despairs at the thought that they might never consummate their relationship. Harry doesn't seem like the conjugal visit type. On second thought, he does. Eggsy hopes it won't come to that.

The garage would never survive without him, so he'd be out of a job, back to square one. Eggsy would have to rebuild everything, a difficult task made even more so with a glaring 'ex-convict' brand on his record.

Without Eggsy to step in to take Dean's punches, would his mother and sister still be around, or would they be beyond salvation after two years of being at Dean's mercy?

Eggsy re-crosses his arms in fury at the thought of Dean.

No, he ain't givin' up just yet. He did nothing wrong. This whole thing starts and ends with Dean.

 

**+**

 

By the time Eggsy's ushered into an interrogation room, several sleepless hours later, he's resolved to tell the whole truth about Rottie's little stunt. He's never grassed on anyone before but he's not taking the fall for Rottie or any of Dean's goons, they deserve neither his respect nor his loyalty. 

But then Eggsy sits down and sees his file lying on the table. It's a slim folder, thankfully, but the fact that he even has a file with the police is shameful enough. His resolve begins to crumble.

Would the inspector even believe Eggsy, a delinquent with a history of petty theft? Dean and his crew were small fry in the grand scheme of things, but if he offered incriminating evidence on their illegal activities - he's got plenty to choose from - would that be enough to get him out of jail entirely, or would it just knock off a few months from a long sentence?

Eggsy feels the panic settling in.

Inspector Ineson takes a sip of his lukewarm coffee. He thumbs through Eggsy's file, although Eggsy suspects he's not so much reading it as giving himself a bit more time to wake up. Ineson is clearly displeased at having drawn the early morning Sunday shift.

"Now, Mr. Unwin," the inspector begins, taking in the sight of Eggsy, who's once again pulled out his tough guy stance, although he has enough courtesy to pop up the brim of his cap, "the car you stole -"

"I didn't steal it, was just drivin' over to return it," Eggsy mutters. Even to himself it sounds pathetic, a paltry excuse.

The inspector gives him a look as if to say 'right, like I've never heard that one before' before continuing, "This car you  _allegedly_  stole and proceeded to drive  _over_  the speed limit, through  _dozens_  of red lights along the streets of London, purposely  _evading_  police custody, belongs to a person of very great interest to us. He's a recent transplant from New York, managed to elude the NYPD for over a decade, not to mention several other law enforcement agencies across the globe."

Inspector Ineson threads his fingers together then leans in towards Eggsy, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, "It would be a great coup for us if we managed to set him up with a serious charge or two. Now if you give us some useful information regarding Mr. John Wick, I'm sure we can come up with some kind of deal."

"All due respect, but I ain't endin' up in prison, I didn't do nuffin' wrong," Eggsy says stiffly. His brain is running a mile a minute. He's glad he's got his arms crossed over his chest to hide how fast his heart is beating.

Eggsy's prepared to give up Rottie, possibly Dean, but grassing on John Wick is a scenario he's not even remotely prepared for. Eggsy knows for a fact that Dean had witnessed John Wick kill three people in one sitting - ' _wiv a fuckin' pencil, Rottie!_ ' - but no way in hell is Eggsy going to shoulder the responsibility of landing John Wick in prison. Eggsy will never have a moment's peace again, he'll be a dead man walking, he'll spend the rest of his days counting down to when John Wick would either escape from prison or be released.

Eggsy's at a complete loss. He sets his jaw and refuses to say anything else, not out of stubbornness but out of fear he'd say the wrong thing. He's been on the receiving end of interrogations before, it's not too hard to fall into a pig's trap if you weren't careful.  
  
He thinks back to Harry's earlier offer to 'take care of things' for him, to make Dean disappear somehow, and more recently, his promise to give Harry a call if he needed anything.  

Eggsy isn't sure he's even allowed a phone call, he's never been in this much trouble with the Met before. Honestly he's only ever encountered those scenarios on television crime dramas.

Eggsy shrugs, doing his best to appear nonchalant, "I'd like to exercise my right to a phone call." 

Inspector Ineson heaves a long-suffering sigh. No doubt it's just a tactic to buy some time. He doubts this young man has a penny to his name or a world-class lawyer at his beck and call.  _Oh well,_ Ineson thinks to himself,  _maybe I can get a fresh hot cup of coffee,_ and gets up to leave the room, not before ripping up the plea deal in front of Eggsy's face. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but sometimes you have to take these kids down a notch. 

Eggsy deflates as soon as the door shuts behind the inspector. Eggsy wants to call his mother, he longs to hear the sound of her voice, but he knows it would only end in tears on both sides. As much as he could do with a good cry right now it won't help him out of this situation. Folks on the telly always call a lawyer, but he doesn't know any, so Eggsy tugs on his only remaining lifeline.

He dials Harry's number. The phone rings for what seems like ages.  
  
"Hello, yes? Good morning," a cheery voice finally greets on the other end of the line.  
  
Eggsy frowns. He's 100% sure he dialed the number correctly.

"Who the fuck is this? You ain't Harry."

 

**+**

 

After Merlin had briefed Arthur on Harry's findings regarding possible large-scale mind control via Valentine Corp.'s SIM cards, Arthur promptly requested that all knights currently stationed in London attend an emergency meeting at 9:30 am on Saturday in the tailor shop dining room. 

Harry wanted to be at home when Eggsy woke up, but he had no idea when that would be and was reluctant to wake him considering how exhausted he was the night before. He wrote him a quick note in apology and rang up nearby French patisserie PAUL on Gloucester Road to deliver a selection of fresh pastries for breakfast and hoped that it would make up for Harry's appalling lack of manners as host.  

Harry is first and foremost a Kingsman, after all. Duty before dick.

Harry heads over to HQ first thing to hand over Eggsy's SIM card to Merlin, who quickly confirms Harry's scientific deductions. 

"Oh, this is verra, verra bad, Galahad."

Harry drums his fingers on the edge of Merlin's desk. He's been keyed up since last night and is half hoping he was wrong about the SIM cards' capability.

"We'll think of something, Merlin, we always do," Harry says, for his own benefit as much as for his friend's. "Or at least you and Arthur will, my brain's completely fried. I have no idea where my surge of energy came from last night but I feel a crash is imminent."

Merlin nudges his glasses up and rubs his eyes. "We'll have to leave the heavy thinking to Arthur and Lancelot, I'm afraid, I didn't get much sleep either after you called last night."

Then Merlin gives Harry a knowing look and elbows him playfully. "Don't even deny you had a much more enjoyable reason to be up late at night, Harry. How is your cute little pet?" Merlin croons as he pulls up the security feed of Harry's house. "Mmm, early riser our young lad," he observes then squints at the screen, "Isn't that your old RAMC t-shirt? I'm surprised you haven't thrown it out yet, Harry, the thing's older than Eggsy!"

"For your information, it takes ages to soften up a t-shirt to just how I like it," Harry huffs indignantly, "and how Eggsy likes it too, obviously," he adds in a small voice.

Harry's pleased at how comfortable Eggsy is in his kitchen. He wishes the feed were of better quality, he can barely make out the way his pyjama bottoms hang dangerously low on Eggsy's slimmer hips.

"Wow he's really tucking in, isn't he?" Harry murmurs in approval as Eggsy methodically devours the pastries. Just as Harry begins to feel guilty for his voyeurism, his phone chimes with a text message from Eggsy, with pictures of the empty breakfast trays attached.

Harry grins at his phone. Merlin rolls his eyes at him.

Roxy peeks her head into Merlin's office just as he minimizes the feed.

"Galahad, Merlin," she greets, "Shall we head over to the shop? Percival and Bors are there already."

"Yes," Merlin says, dragging himself out of his chair, "And how are you holding up, Lancelot? You stayed quite late at the gala last night."

Roxy holds up a Trenta-sized sugary Starbucks concoction, piled high with whipped cream and generous drizzles of caramel sauce, "Who needs sleep?"

Harry and Merlin pull identical disgusted faces.

 

**+**

 

Merlin and the two agents emerge from Fitting Room 1 a short while later.

"I'll meet you in the dining room," Harry says to Merlin and Roxy. He hangs back to fire off a quick text to Eggsy, urging him to borrow one of his coats as it had been quite cold when he left the house this morning. Harry takes a moment or two to compose himself after Eggsy's immediate reply calling him 'daddy'.

Everyone's gathered and seated in the dining room by the time Harry arrives.

Chester King, code name Arthur, sighs, "Late again, Galahad." 

"Gentlemen, and lady," Arthur begins the session, smiling genially at Roxy before his expression turns serious, "early this morning, Galahad made an alarming discovery regarding the free SIM cards which the Valentine Corporation has been distributing all over the world. I'll leave the scientific details to Merlin, but it appears they've been modified to produce ultrasound waves when triggered. We don't know the exact nature of Valentine's scheme, but given a cursory review of the intel we have gathered to date, it appears to be some sort of wide-scale plan involving mind control."

"I will be providing a more detailed explanation in the official mission dossier, but just to give everyone some background," Merlin begins, amidst the knights' murmurs of disbelief and concern, "the research behind this was begun about 6 years ago at the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology, which as you know is Richmond Valentine's alma mater. Researchers have been experimenting with low-frequency, low-intensity ultrasound which can penetrate the skull in order to activate or silence specific brain cells. It's intended to treat neurological disorders, of course, but given the fact that Valentine is distributing these modified SIM cards on such a large scale, it's doubtful he plans to use the technology for something other than nefarious purposes."

Arthur resumes control of the room once Merlin finishes. "The purpose of this meeting is to go over all of the intelligence we've gathered so far, dating back to the last mission of James, the previous Lancelot. I wanted to do this prior to finalizing the mission details in order to be as thorough as possible. Merlin, shall we begin?"

"As some of you may know, James's last mission was a failed rescue op of Professor Arnold. However, the kidnapping was an unforeseen event; James had tracked this particular group of mercenaries to Argentina because of their involvement in experimenting with biological weaponry. Glasses, please," Merlin requests before directing them to the screen above the fireplace, "Uganda, 2012. Synthetic cathenodes. They put it in the water supply of a guerrilla army base. Rage, cannibalism, multiple fatalities..." 

 

**+**

 

It's just past noon by the time the knights have finished their preliminary round of connect-the-dots - the mercenaries in Argentina, the kidnapping of Professor Arnold, an environmental scientist whose research focused on the 'Gaia theory' about Mother Earth healing herself, and the thread connecting him to the Valentine Corporation - the exploding neck implant. There are still a few outliers, things they weren't able to reconcile, including a screen capture of one of Valentine's aides carrying a pamphlet for South Glade Mission Church in Kentucky, taken by Roxy at the gala, the disappearances of a seemingly random selection of VIPs, the most recent one being Princess Tilde of Sweden, and flight logs of Valentine's corporate jets showing an increased number of flights to the Komi Republic in Russia. 

"Shall we break for lunch?" Arthur suggests, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He glances at his Bremont, "Why don't we schedule a follow-up in -" 

Arthur's interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dagonet, one of the full-time tailors at the shop, walks in without waiting to be called in, signalling a matter of extreme urgency.

"Very sorry to interrupt, Arthur, sir, but Mr. Richmond Valentine has just walked into the shop. Pelinore is taking care of him at the moment. His young bodyguard is with him as well, sir, he's referred to her as his valet."

"Thank you, Dagonet."

The knights, trained to improvise and act at a moment's notice, spring into action.

Arthur turns to Harry, "Galahad, take the secret entrance to Fitting Room 2, and take Dagonet with you, unless - has Valentine seen you, Dagonet?"

The tailor shakes his head, "No, sir, I was in the back of the shop and came up here as soon as I recognized him."

Arthur nods. "Galahad, pretend you've just been in for a fitting. We have nothing concrete to accuse him of yet so consider this a recon mission. Merlin, could you pull up the video and audio feeds of the shop, please?"

"Pelinore," Merlin instructs over comms, "if Mr. Valentine is here for a fitting please show him into Fitting Room 1, Galahad and Dagonet are making their way to Fitting Room 2 as we speak."

"What on earth is he doing here?" Percival murmurs as they settle in to watch the feed. Bors stands up and paces along the length of the dining room, impatient with inaction against the possible breach of security.

Roxy sits up in her chair, "Valentine must have placed a tracker on Galahad, possibly on me as well, although I don't think I raised as much suspicion, I didn't even use an alias at the gala. If the trackers stay active for 24 hours he could have easily tracked him, or both of us, to the shop."

Bors, who was undercover among the catering staff at the gala, concurs, "Yes, very true, Lancelot, unfortunately as soon as the food and drink left the kitchen there was ample opportunity, someone could have easily slipped nanotrackers in Galahad's drink." 

"Speaking of trackers, Merlin," Arthur says, "any chance we can place one on Mr. Valentine?"

"Dagonet and Pelinore have supplies of untraceable bugs but it may be difficult for Galahad to get close enough to Valentine's person, especially with Gazelle hovering over him."

"Pelinore," Merlin says over comms, "If you're unable to place a bug on Mr. Valentine, if the opportunity arises, direct him to one of the other shops along Savile Row. We can easily plant a decoy sales associate and Valentine would hopefully be less suspicious once he's left Kingsman premises."  

 

**+**

 

Harry and Dagonet pretend to be mid-conversation as they exit their fitting room soon after Richmond Valentine comes out of his.

"Mr. DeVere!" Valentine exclaims, "What a coincidence! You are totally the reason I am here! When you left my gala I was thirstin' for that dope-ass smokin' jacket you had on! Didn't realize it would take so damn long for a bespoke jacket, though. Might have to hold off 'til my next visit to England."

"Are you leaving London so soon, sir?" Harry asks, acknowledging Gazelle with a friendly nod.

"Got things to do, places to be, man! You know how it is."

Harry smiles politely, "I'm afraid I don't, Mr. Valentine, I'm rather a bore. Your gala last night was a rare social outing for me. So rare in fact, I had to pop in today to make some adjustments to my formal evening wear, so seldom used."

"Coulda fooled me, Mr. DeVere. Had you pegged for one of those adventurous types. You got that look," Valentine says, narrowing his eyes, "like one of 'em gentleman spies in those old movies we both love."

"Tread carefully, Galahad," Merlin warns in Harry's ear.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Valentine, but gentleman spies are strictly the stuff of movies, I'm afraid," Harry counters, "I know for a fact those poor blokes in Her Majesty's secret service don't get paid nearly enough to afford bespoke suits." 

Valentine smirks. He drops the topic for the time being. His eyes wander the shop and land on Pelinore, who's rearranging bolts of fabric.

"Hey my man, what you got there?" Valentine says thoughtfully, "You know, I saw some dude wearin' a real nice suit, looked like bespoke come to think of it, made out of this same exact material." He makes eye contact with Harry and fingers the fabric in question, a wool blend, beige with olive undertones and thin gray lines running through it forming a pattern of wide squares. 

Back in the dining room Percival pales. "He's talking about the suit James was wearing during his last mission. Valentine's letting us know that he knows about Kingsman, and he's basically just confessed to killing James," he says, aghast.

Gazelle's prosthetics glint mockingly in the corner of Harry's eye.

"It's a shame the suit got ruined," Harry says menacingly, squaring his shoulders and straightening up to his full height, which also happens to be Valentine's full height.

"Galahad...," Merlin warns again, recognizing Harry's  _'I'm about to open a can o' whoop-ass'_  stance. 

Harry and Valentine remain at a standoff for several tense moments.

Then Valentine relaxes and offers a hand to Harry, "Listen man, you do your thang, I'll do mine, it's all good!"

"Valentine will leave us be, keep Kingsman a secret, if we show him the same courtesy," Arthur deduces in the dining room.

Harry has no response other than to throw a punch, but he refrains. It's not a good idea to upset megalomaniacs when you have no idea what they're capable of.

"Gazelle!" Valentine yells, even though she's standing less than a meter away, "You ready? We gotta find us some pumped-up kicks."

Pelinore clears his throat, "Mr. Valentine, if I may offer a suggestion, the Alexander McQueen menswear flagship is right next door, and they have a collaboration with Puma at the moment, might be worth a look." 

Valentine lights up at the suggestion. 

In the dining room Arthur turns to Merlin, "Merlin, did you get that? Send our decoy over to the shop now." 

Merlin taps on his clipboard, "Done. I recognize all of them at the shop today, but just in case there's anyone new among the staff, we can always feed them the usual MI5 nonsense."

 

**+**

 

Fortunately Valentine takes the bait and he and Gazelle walk over to Alexander McQueen immediately following their visit to Kingsman Tailors. 

Harry goes through the motions of finishing up with his fitting, despite it being obvious that Kingsman's cover is blown. He makes a show of leaving the store before circling around to the back entrance, where he rejoins the knights at the (not round) dining table. 

Barely ten minutes into Valentine's shopping excursion, Kingsman's agent confirms placement of a small bug on the little nub at the top of Valentine's NY Yankees snapback. 

After checking to see that the bug is functioning properly, Merlin forwards the audio and GPS feeds to the tech team for round-the-clock monitoring. He lets the agent know to place more bugs, perhaps among Valentine's purchases, just in case.

The knights don't have to wait long to be rewarded. They're finalizing details for follow-up and recon missions when someone from the tech department checks in with Merlin.

Merlin holds up a finger to shush the room, "Yes? Hold on please, I'll patch you through so that everyone can hear and I won't have to repeat everything."

"Hello, Arthur, knights. The following is a playback of a recording from the bug that was recently planted on Valentine's hat. This conversation took place just a few moments ago, there were no sales associates near them at the time, so they thought they had a bit of privacy  -"

 

_"These Kingsmen are all over us Gazelle, we gotta stay one step ahead! You know what? Fuck 'em. We need to speed things up. I wanna do the test at the church, TOMORROW."_

_"You really want those type of conditions for this test? It's Sunday service, the church will be packed."_

_"Do I look like I give a fuck? Just get it done!"_

_"We can leave tonight."_

 

"South Glade Mission Church," Roxy says as soon as the playback ends.

Arthur begins to dole out responsibility. "Regarding the missing VIPs, I know you are all very concerned about Miss Azalea," Arthur says dryly, "but our first priority is the royal family. I will personally liaise with MI6 to ramp up security, and I'll pay a visit to Buckingham Palace, make sure that none of them have SIM cards. Or neck implants, for that matter. Perhaps have a few words with Mycroft Holmes while I'm at Vauxhall." 

"Now don't forget," Merlin adds, "we have yet to follow up on the flight logs of Valentine's private fleet. There's been an uptick in flights to the Komi Republic recently. We need to send someone out there. He's clearly hiding something, it's not exactly your usual vacation spot."

Arthur nods in agreement. "Percival, it's all yours. Dress warmly."

Arthur turns to Roxy. "Now, Lancelot, you have a choice for your first international mission. Normally we do not send rookie knights off to missions with so many unknowns, but we don't have the luxury of time. Valentine is ready to strike and we can't pull the other knights mid-mission. You can either join Percival, and we have no clue what lies in wait in the Komi Republic, or you can provide point to Galahad in Kentucky, and like we've said before, we don't know what Valentine's planning with the SIM cards."

Roxy makes up her mind almost instantly, "I am going to Kentucky, sir."

Harry and Percival, who is Roxy's uncle, exchange a look. Percival's about to open his mouth when Roxy fixes him a look and repeats herself in a tone that brooks no argument, "I'm going to Kentucky."

"Well then, that's settled," Arthur says, "Bors, you will accompany Percival. All four of you, go home and pack for your missions. Galahad, Lancelot - Merlin and I expect you back at HQ no later than 1900, to be briefed by the tech team. The two of you will remain at HQ and spend the night there in case something urgent comes up between now and the time of your flight to the States, so pack accordingly."

The meeting adjourns and everyone is spurred into action.

Harry takes a Kingsman cab back to his house to pack for his trans-atlantic trip.

When Harry arrives at Stanhope Mews he's surprised at how disappointed he is to find his doorstep empty - no adorable sleepy Eggsy waiting for him. It's utterly depressing.

As soon as he's indoors he dials Eggsy's number.

"Hello? 'arry?" 

"Hello, Eggsy."

 

**+**

 

Harry walks dazedly toward his bathroom to pack up his toiletries, still clutching his phone to his chest after his phone call with Eggsy. "What on earth have I got myself into?" he asks Mr. Pickle and gives him a fond scratch. 

Eggsy. Who is now his boyfriend (unofficial). Whom Harry is sure he'll tackle to the nearest horizontal surface the moment they're reunited (official).

Harry shakes his head.  _Save the world, then you can focus on Eggsy_ , he tells himself and walks up the stairs to his bedroom to finish packing.

 

**+**

 

Harry's back at HQ within two hours, armed with his overnight travel bag and Indian takeaway for himself, Merlin, and Roxy. Harry knows that Merlin's bound to skip meals whenever he's stressed, which is always.

"You and Lancelot will be leaving London at 0700 tomorrow. You'll be flying nonstop to Chicago, where the plane will refuel, and from there it's an hour and a half flight to Louisville in the southern state of Kentucky. You should arrive in Kentucky around 1400 local time at the latest."

Merlin holds up a zoomed-in image of the church pamphlet which Roxy had taken at Valentine's gala. "Now the only service scheduled for South Glade Mission Church on Sundays is the evening service at 5:30 pm, so you'll have plenty of time to drop off your things at the motel - no five-star hotels in the vicinity, Galahad," he says, catching Harry's grimace, "and get acquainted with your surroundings. Your mode of transport in Kentucky," Merlin pauses for effect, "will be a pair of Harley-Davidson motorcycles."

Merlin can tell how excited the two agents are. "Lancelot, you passed your driving module with flying colors fairly recently, and Galahad, your ridiculous and completely unnecessary stunt driving through Venice in a moped last year assures me that both of you will handle yourselves adequately."

Merlin hands each agent a bulky prototype helmet. "Now the reason for the motorcycles is so that the two of you can wear these 'sound deadening' helmets during your recon mission. We have no idea which part of the brain Valentine is targeting with the SIM cards, but these helmets should cancel out any incoming ultrasound wave so you won't be affected. Of course this means you have to wear them at all times during your mission, but I consider it a small price to pay for not having your brain controlled by an evil genius."

Harry holds up the latest contraption from the tech department. "Merlin, what on earth..." he trails off as he scrunches up his face.

Merlin wags a finger at Harry, "Oh no, Harry, don't give me that look, I had the tech team cobble these together as soon as you expressed your concerns about the ultrasound waves, and they've been working 'round the clock on them."

"Can't I just wear a pair of noise-canceling headphones and be done with it?" Harry says with a pout.

Merlin rolls his eyes at Roxy, who's trying not to choke on her saag paneer.

Merlin turns to Harry and says in a soothing tone, "Now, Harry, what did Arthur and I designate as your personal motto when you were inducted as Galahad?" 

"Safety before vanity," Harry grumbles.

"You can do better than that, Harry," Merlin says, cupping a hand around his ear as a makeshift amplifier.

"Safety before vanity," Harry repeats, louder this time but no less irritated.

Roxy has to take several swigs of water to stop from choking. "I don't recall being given a motto for the Lancelot position, Merlin," she says.

"That's because your ego is proportionately-sized, my dear."

Harry rolls his eyes.

"I'm sure you both know from basic physics, sound waves can travel through pretty much any medium. Unless you're out in space, in a vacuum, it's virtually impossible to soundproof a room 100%. Even the most absorbent material tends to scatter some of the incoming sound waves."

Merlin stands up to fit Roxy's helmet over her head. He takes it off immediately afterward, making a note to adjust the fit to allow room for her ponytail. 

"Now the reason these are so bulky, Harry," Merlin continues, giving his friend a pointed look, "is its layered design. There are two layers - a soft absorbent layer, and a hard reflective one, which are separated by a thin layer of air.The two layers, acting as resonators, are tuned precisely to each other's frequency..."

Harry is delighted to discover that putting on the helmet drowns out the rest of Merlin's babbling. In fact, he hears nothing at all. It's complete, engulfing, dead silence. It's a little disconcerting.

"...creating destructive interference for any sound the first resonator scatters. So effectively, the idea is that any sound that gets through the soft layer would bounce off the reflective layer and cancel out any incoming sound waves _._ "

Merlin's voice shatters the silence and Harry realizes that Merlin is now speaking through the comms channel in his glasses. He sighs and takes the helmet off. "This monstrosity is unerringly effective, Merlin, as all your toys are."

"They're not toys, you fucking tosser," Merlin says. "Now Lancelot, Galahad has just demonstrated that you can still wear your glasses with the helmet so you'll have access to all your communication and data recording tools."

Roxy puts her helmet on. A crowd gathers in Merlin's office as Harry and Merlin, all in the name of science, sing lewd songs at an obnoxious volume and yell insults at each other in front of Roxy, who remains blissfully unaware of just how badly the two of them sing, thanks to the sound-deadening device.

Merlin gathers both helmets and hands them off to the tech team for final adjustments and refinements before the agents' early morning flight. Harry and Merlin's singing was mostly for show, they still have to perform tests for the frequency range of the ultrasound waves before approving the helmets for field use.

"If only this soundproofing technology had been readily available back in the day, my living situation at Eton would have been vastly improved," Merlin says wistfully then gives Harry the evil-eye.

Harry throws up his hands, "I was seventeen!"

"You fucked everyone in our hall, Harry, including the obstinately heterosexual ones."

Harry grins. "As I recall, I invited you to join in the fun on more than one occasion, yet you always refused."

"And that is precisely why we are still friends to this day."

Harry drops his voice and says to Roxy, "He'd probably still have hair if he'd allowed me to provide him some stress relief back then, eh?"

Roxy gives up and sets aside the rest of her dinner to consume later, when she's not in the presence of these two idiots and out of danger of needing a Heimlich maneuver.

 

**+**

 

Harry wakes a minute before his alarm starts blaring at 5 am on Sunday morning. After getting dressed, he joins Roxy at the cafeteria and together they stack an assortment of breakfast foods high on a plate to bring to Merlin, along with four cups of coffee, two of which are for Merlin.

After reviewing the mission details one more time, Harry suffers through a final fitting for the sound-deadening helmet. He's pleased to note that the helmet is more refined, less bulky, infinitely more flattering. He makes a note to bring back souvenirs from the States for the entire tech department. Pancake mix, perhaps? And maple syrup? Merlin would love that. 

"Thank you, Merlin, and do thank your minions as well," Harry says earnestly, "I know they must have slaved over these while Roxy and I slept." 

Merlin accepts Harry's thanks graciously. He's glad Roxy's joining Harry on this mission. Harry may have a flair for the dramatic but he saves his worse antics for solo missions. Harry will do anything to keep the young agent safe.

They enjoy their few precious moments of peace. When it's time to leave, Merlin accompanies them to the hangar.

"Now remember," Merlin says, "Over a billion people worldwide are in possession of Valentine's SIM cards, and the number is growing every day. As soon as you get a good handle of what Valentine has in store for the SIM cards, we have to stop him."

Harry nods. A shudder runs down his spine when he thinks about Eggsy, who would still be using Valentine's SIM card if Harry hadn't intervened.

"Oh, Merlin?" Harry says casually, handing him his personal mobile for safekeeping, "My boyfriend Eggsy might call -"

"I. Beg. Your. Pardon?" Merlin says, raising both eyebrows up toward his non-existent hairline. "Are you telling me that in between going home to pack and returning to HQ, you managed to get yourself a boyfriend?"

Harry shrugs, as if Merlin shouldn't be surprised, "Yes well, I decided to take your advice, Merlin, he does make me happy. Not to mention, today's youth would benefit greatly from my worldly knowledge and breadth of sexual experience."

"God help the poor lad," Merlin mutters but looks impressed nonetheless. He tucks Harry's phone into his pocket, "I'll have someone monitor your phone calls until you get back from Kentucky. I haven't forgotten how traumatized Eggsy was when you were in a coma."

"Thank you, Merlin. I'll see you in a couple of days."

Merlin nods, having perfected his stoic demeanor after years of seeing Harry off to missions. He suspects it will be an even bigger challenge now with young Roxy, whom he's grown fond of, but his face remains placid while she gives him a hug, humming with excitement at her first overseas mission.

Merlin steps off the platform, waves at the plane until it rises and is swallowed up by the Kingsman K opening up on the manicured lawn of the estate.

Merlin is mere steps away from the tech department where he intends to drop off Harry's phone when it rings. Merlin looks at the screen, expecting perhaps a nauseating nickname or an NSFW lock screen of Eggsy, but instead the caller I.D. registers as Holborn Police Station. 

Merlin frowns.

"Hello, yes? Good morning," Merlin cringes at how chipper he sounds, but he was unprepared to take the call.  
  
There's a pause before an angry voice responds,

"Who the fuck is this? You ain't Harry."

 

**+**

 

Eggsy returns to his defensive sitting stance after speaking with Merlin and blurting out the entire goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation he's found himself in.

Eggsy has no idea what Merlin meant when he said "I'll see what I can do, lad" which is the only phrase Merlin uttered the entire conversation (not that Eggsy let him have a word in edgewise). It was all very one-sided. Eggsy fears he's right back where he started.

Eggsy isn't expecting any miracles but, no offense to Merlin's admittedly comforting Scottish burr, it's Harry's voice he wanted to hear.

Eggsy looks up when the door opens, almost an hour later, and a different harried constable walks in carrying a small plastic bin filled with Eggsy's belongings, including Harry's puffer.

"You're free to go," she says, not bothering with further explanation. She makes an impatient gesture at Eggsy while he sits frozen in shock. He recovers soon enough and stands up quickly before she changes her mind or realizes her mistake. 

The constable jerks her head in the direction of the exit and just like that, Eggsy walks out of Holborn Police Station.

He looks around warily. He has no clue what John Wick looks like but it's entirely possible that the hitman had sent a firing squad to off him as soon as he's within sniping range. He looks around for tell-tale signs of a sniper scope among the neighboring buildings.

"Eggsy!" a familiar voice (still not Harry's) calls to him. Eggsy whips his head around and sees Merlin.

That cozy jumper is the best thing Eggsy's seen in ages.

"Merlin!" Eggsy runs up and impulsively gives Merlin a hug.

Merlin's taken aback but he recovers quickly, runs his hand up and down Eggsy's back soothingly. "There, there, lad. Come on then, we have a busy day ahead, plenty of loose ends to tie up."

"Merlin, my mum and Daisy?" Eggsy asks, looking stricken.

"Your call came through just in time, Eggsy, they're fine, everything's been sorted," Merlin assures him.

Eggsy waits for further explanation but gets nothing.

Merlin ushers Eggsy down the steps toward street level...

... where a 1969 Ford Mustang is parked.

Eggsy stops in his tracks. "Merlin, izzat -?"

"Hmm? Yes, Eggsy, this is John Wick's car. He wants it back, in case you haven't heard," Merlin says dryly, with a smirk, then adds, "Get in, Eggsy, I'm driving."

Eggsy has so many questions but Merlin's obviously in a hurry to settle things, so he slides into the passenger seat and buckles in, noting that the exposed wires are back in place and Merlin's obtained a key somehow.

"Fanks, Merlin, I really owe ya," Eggsy says as they pull out of the parking spot.

"You have Harry to thank, lad, he left you in my care while he and Lance - errr - Roxanne, are in the States taking care of some business."

Eggsy narrows his eyes suspiciously. "How'd ya get me out, Merlin? Tailor connections or summat?"

"For your information, Eggsy, Kingsman Tailors have clothed the world's most powerful individuals since 1849," Merlin says blandly, not taking the bait, "But suffice to say, I've made the necessary arrangements."

The two are silent as the urban landscape of central London gives way to the generic shrubbery lining the motorway.

"Go to sleep, lad," Merlin urges gently, "We have a two hour drive ahead of us and I doubt you got much sleep last night, aye?"

Eggsy's overactive imagination supplies dozens of scenarios in which he's been sold off to John Wick in some sort of indentured servitude. Eggsy sighs, loudly, but finds himself drifting off to sleep despite the thoughts whirling in his head and the steady, insistent drone of the vintage Mustang.

 

**+**

 

They're standing in front of John Wick's door, the Mustang parked under the sloping roof of the [modern home](http://www.dezeen.com/2015/07/21/flint-house-skene-catling-de-la-pena-lord-jacob-rothschild-waddesdon-manor-stone/)'s awning.

Eggsy tugs on his (Harry's) old t-shirt. He fiddles with his outfit arrangement, first wearing Harry's puffer over his own thin jacket, then removing his jacket in favor of just Harry's, then forgoing the puffer altogether and struggling with tucking it neatly under his arm.

"Eggsy."

Eggsy stills at the commanding voice and side-eyes Merlin.

Merlin sighs and tucks his clipboard under his arm. He motions for Eggsy to stand in front of him and Eggsy complies.

Just as he'd felt standing next to Harry in his coveralls, Eggsy feels equally grubby and disheveled standing next to Merlin, who's wearing an obviously well crafted, expensive looking field jacket over his custom fitted layers of clothing.

Merlin tucks in the t-shirt into Eggsy's jeans, his face betraying none of the delight he feels at recognizing the t-shirt as Harry's, and zips up Eggsy's jacket. Then he arranges the puffer, which Merlin also recognizes as Harry's, over Eggsy's shoulders, leaving it unzipped.

Merlin stands back to appraise his work and decides it's the best he can do under the circumstances. He'll appeal to Harry's latent 'sugar daddy' proclivity at a later time to outfit the young lad in some nicer clothing.

"Shall we?" Merlin says as he rings the doorbell, making sure his face is visible for the security camera. 

They hear the soft, padded, eager steps of a four-legged creature, although no angry bark accompanies them.

For a moment Eggsy and Merlin hear nothing else until three locks click open, and Eggsy looks nervously at Merlin to see if he, too, thinks that a dog is opening the door.

This is obviously not the case, it is in fact just a super-stealthy secret assassin who opens the door and allows Merlin and Eggsy to step inside.

Eggsy isn't sure what he was expecting, he's accustomed to the thick, brawler type of thug, but it certainly wasn't this tall, handsome bloke in front of him.

John Wick's only about an inch shorter than Merlin's 6'2". He's wearing a tailored suit and dark fitted shirt with a tie in a matching dark color. He has a short-cropped beard, more like thick stubble, really, long-ish hair and a fringe which he occasionally sweeps off his face with a jerk of his head.

If they were at a bar Eggsy would be tempted to try and flirt away the sadness in John Wick's eyes.  _Or not_ , because he's Harry's boyfriend now.  _Get it together, Eggsy_.

"Merlin, it's been a while." Deep voice, American accent, no intonation - exactly how he sounds over the phone. 

"Yes it has, John. I hope your impression of London hasn't been tarnished by this incident," Merlin says, shaking John's hand.

John shrugs, "I've been in the business for a long time, Merlin, trouble's bound to follow me."

Merlin steps aside to reveal Eggsy, who's been cowering behind Merlin, petting the dog. "This is Eggsy Unwin," Merlin says. They must have discussed Eggsy beforehand because that's all the introduction John receives.

Eggsy figures the dog is a safe topic. "The lil pup is cute," he says, "won't be much of a guard dog 'til she gets older though, yeah?"

Merlin and John stare at Eggsy and Merlin's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Wot? It's a bulldog, innit? She'll get bigger."

Merlin shakes his head and rubs his forehead. John simply turns his back on them.

Right. Eggsy's going to keep his mouth shut from now on.

With a jerk of his head - a man of few words, that one - John escorts them past the entryway into an open sitting room. The dog runs off to a room farther inside the house.

John turns to face Merlin. He lifts up his jacket and takes out a gun from the back of his trousers and lays it down on the coffee table. Then he lifts up a trouser leg to reveal a small knife, which he also places on the table.

Merlin does the same, emptying a gun holster and fishing out no less than four small knives.

There's an overkill of an arsenal on the coffee table by the time John and Merlin divest themselves of their weapons. They turn to Eggsy expectantly. 

Eggsy takes his hands out of his pockets and throws them up in mock surrender, "Merlin, guv, I'm just a mechanic."

Merlin tuts at him. He steps forward, unearths an innocuous-looking lighter and pen from the pockets of Harry's Moncler puffer and lays them down on the table. Then he unzips a hidden pocket in the back of the puffer, right underneath the hood, and takes out a small folding knife.

"What the fuck?" Eggsy says under his breath, confused. What kind of fucking  _tailor_  is Harry?! Eggsy's going to have  _words_  with his boyfriend when all's said and done (right after they consummate their relationship). 

The three of them sit down on the sofa. Eggsy ends up sitting in between John and Merlin, who talk over the shorter man easily enough.

"I'm sorry to hear about Helen," Merlin offers sincerely. John acknowledges the sentiment and there's no further mention of his recently deceased wife.

"How's the tailoring business?" John asks, "I still have my bespoke suit from Kingsman. Special fabric, wish I could put it to the test more often."

 _Wish I knew what the fuck you all are on about_ , Eggsy thinks.

"Compliments of Kingsman, John, if only for you to look at. Never a dull moment at the shop, in fact our tailors are currently scattered all over the globe dealing with various crises."

John nods. 

Eggsy would really love for everyone to stop talking in fucking riddles. What's going to happen to him? What the fuck did Merlin agree to? Is Eggsy going to be John Wick's dog walker? His fucking valet?!

Eggsy shifts in his seat, impatient for them to read him his verdict.

Finally Merlin clears his throat, "Thank you, John, for understanding," he says, nodding in Eggsy's direction.

John settles his gaze on Eggsy. Eggsy sits up straight, trying with all his might not to wilt under scrutiny, with John's cold, dead eyes boring holes into his soul.

"I should thank you, Eggsy," John says in his toneless voice, "for not turning me in."

It takes a minute to sink in before Eggsy remembers the deal Inspector Ineson had offered in exchange for information leading to John Wick's arrest. An eyewitness account from Dean Baker, whom Eggsy was more than willing to let burn, would certainly have moved things along.

"If there's one thing I can do, Mr. Wick, it's keep me mouth shut," Eggsy says proudly, head held high, "Ask the feds, I've nevva grassed anyone up." It's even more true now, after getting sprung from prison before he ever breathed a word against Dean and his goons.

"You're letting the culprits off easy this time, John," Merlin teases lightly. 

"The last time someone stole my Mustang, they also murdered Daisy," John points out.

Eggsy lets out a loud, strangled yelp, "Oh my god!!!"

John stares at Eggsy.

"Daisy was my dog," John says, then adds, quietly, "a gift from my wife."

"Oh, right..."

Eggsy thinks it could have been worse, his was a perfectly normal reaction to heartless bastards who go around murdering innocent dogs. But just in case, by way of explanation and to make him appear less insane, Eggsy says, "Sorry, sir, my lil sister's name is Daisy, is all."

"Ah," John says, then cocks his head and considers him silently for a few minutes.

"Follow me." 

Merlin and Eggsy stand up and follow John out of the sitting room. 

They enter a different room and the dog - a pug, not a bulldog - runs over to John. He picks her up and they walk over to a large wicker basket by the window.

It's the first time all afternoon that John's gaze softens. John Wick is human after all. Eggsy would have serious doubts if John was incapable of smiling in the presence of - a basketful of puppies!

"My dog just had a litter. Would you like a puppy, Eggsy?" he asks as selects a random one from the basket and hands him to Eggsy.

Eggsy lets out a soft gasp as he cuddles the tiny puppy against his chest. Every fiber of his being is telling him to take the puppy and run, but his love of animals is exactly what keeps him from doing that. He knows pets are a big responsibilty and that no one should take one on unless they're fully prepared.

"Awww, puppy," he coos. He turns to John, his heart breaking, "Mr. Wick, I'd love a puppy, honest, it's just, I can't take care of one proper, right now, ain't got the time, I work long hours at the garage, ain't got the space, neivver, with me mum, and Daisy, and fuckin' Dean," he grumbles. 

"Take the puppy, Eggsy," Merlin says, "Harry will take care of him until you're sorted."

Eggsy's face lights up, "Really, Merlin? Should we call him first, to make sure?" he asks doubtfully. It seems a lot to expect from a new, non-consummated relationship.

"Nonsense! He'll be delighted." Harry's going to murder Merlin.

"Galahad?" John asks. He smiles knowingly at Eggsy when Merlin confirms with a nod.

Eggsy isn't even going to try and decipher that exchange.

"What are you going to name him, Eggsy?" Merlin asks. Apparently the matter's been settled.

Eggsy looks up at John then down at the puppy, than back at John. "His name's JW," he decides.

John smiles - Eggsy counts that at his biggest accomplishment of the day - and actually looks pleased.

"Hey JW," Eggsy says softly as he nuzzles his pug's wet nose.

John walks them to his front door after a belated offer for tea, apologizing for his lack of manners.

"Thank you for the offer, John, perhaps next time. I must take Eggsy back to the shop, we still have some unfinished business."

Eggsy thanks John profusely for JW and for giving him a chance, and he tries to convey in not so obvious terms that he's extremely grateful to John for not going on a murderous rampage.

As they turn to leave, Merlin asks, "John, will you be making dinner reservations? Kingsman concierge will be happy to make arrangements for you, I realize you may not have access to your usual resources since you've only just moved to London."

John deliberates. "I'll consider it, Merlin, although my car's returned, safely, in good condition, and my dog's unharmed, so..." he trails off and shrugs his shoulders.

Merlin nods in understanding, and, not for the first time that day, Eggsy is left to puzzle out their conversation.

"Oh and Eggsy," John says, "You won't have to worry about Dean Baker ever again." He shuts the door without waiting for a reply.

Eggsy gapes at the closed door.

"Wot? Is that it? The fuck he means by that? Merlin?!" Despite his insistence that he had done nothing wrong, it still seems unlikely that Eggsy would get off so easily.

Merlin sighs, "Exactly what he said, Eggsy. Dean Baker is no longer a concern of yours."

Eggsy runs a hand over his hair in frustration. "Ugh, s'alright, I get it, you all got yer secrets. Can I at least call me mum, let her know I ain't lyin' in a ditch somewhere?"

Merlin nods and Eggsy takes out his phone.

"Eggsy! Are you all right, luv?" His mum sounds like she'd been crying, but otherwise seems relieved to hear Eggsy's voice. "Listen, luv, I know there's no love lost between the two o' you but... some men came by, Eggsy, said Dean would be locked up for a very long time, made it sound like he ain't ever coming home..."

Eggsy can tell she's a bit torn, "Well, ma, you know his business deals weren't all straight, yeah? 'Twas only a matter of time," he says gently, "It'll be alright, mum, I'll take care a' you and Daisy, I promise."

"I know, luv, it's just a lot to take in."

"I'll see you soon, ma. It's gonna be alright, it's gonna be better."

Eggsy feels like a great weight's been lifted off his shoulders. Maybe he doesn't need to know all the gory details. He smiles at JW and clutches him to his chest.

"Can I call Harry now?"

"No, Eggsy."

Eggsy glares at Merlin, his jaw set, but doesn't argue.

"Oi, mate, how're we supposed to get back to London without a car -" as soon as the words are out of Eggsy's mouth, a black cab pulls up in front of them.

Eggsy sighs. It's obviously a decoy cab, and it looks completely conspicuous out here in the countryside besides. His suspicions are confirmed when he climbs into the backseat and sees a fancy cocktail bar built into the wood paneling. 

Confident that he's going to survive this ordeal, the only thing Eggsy wants now are answers.

 

 

**_VI. Tesla Model S P90D with Ludicrous Mode_ **

 

 

Eggsy's happily distracted by JW the entire cab ride back to... actually, Eggsy has no idea where they're going. He couldn't care less at the moment, not with JW in his arms, the two of them warm and safe tucked inside Harry's coat. "Merlin he's so tiny, fits in me pocket!" 

Merlin hums noncommittally, his touchscreen clipboard taking up all of his attention at the moment. Eggsy leaves him alone, half-listens as Merlin speaks to someone back at the shop, not over the phone, but via some hidden Bluetooth device maybe? Something about Chicago and everything being on schedule. It all sounds incredibly serious.

"So uh, Merlin..., " Eggsy says carefully when there's a break in Merlin's incessant tapping. 

Merlin raises an eyebrow.

"You and John Wick... you ever... y'know?" Eggsy waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Merlin looks at Eggsy as though he'd grown an additional head, "What on earth makes you think that, Eggsy?" 

"Well, you asked him about dinner reservations and all!" Eggsy says defensively. Ain't his fault no one bothers explaining anything to him, ever.

"Ah," Merlin chuckles, "Yes, I see how that can be misconstrued. 'Dinner reservations' is code for his cleanup crew, Eggsy. If John Wick requests dinner reservations for two, for example, it means there are two bodies which must be disposed of, cleaned up without a trace, etcetera etcetera." 

"Christ," Eggsy mutters. He looks out the window. "Y'know, Merlin, I ain't daft. I never met a tailor before meetin' Harry, but I know there's more to you lot than you're lettin' on. You tellin' me a fuckin' tailor has a cleanup crew, too?"

"You'll have the answers to all of your questions by the end of the day, Eggsy, I promise," Merlin says before turning his attention back to his clipboard.

Eggsy lets out a huff of impatience. It's dusk now, it'll be nightfall soon. He's not rotting away in prison, he's got an official puppy and an unofficial boyfriend, his mum and Daisy are safe, and Dean's out of the picture. How? Who knows. Does he care? Not particularly.

The day's almost over, he can grant Merlin a couple of hours to make good on his promise. 

 

**+**

 

The cab drops them off in front of Kingsman Tailors. The shop is By Appointment Only on Sundays, but there's a warm, welcoming glow emanating from the shop.

Merlin unlocks the door and ushers Eggsy inside before walking over to the shop's collection of novelty and seasonal items. He selects a fine-grain leather collar and matching lead for JW and hands both to Eggsy.

"Fanks, guv!" Eggsy says, surreptitiously checking for a price tag.

"Compliments of Kingsman," Merlin says as he adds the items to Harry's tab.

JW is still a bit wobbly on his little legs but he follows his master gamely.

Merlin opens the door to Fitting Room 1 and steps inside, then turns around to see Eggsy hovering in the doorway, uncertain.

Eggsy has a sinking feeling, déjà vu from when Dean had tried to pimp him out. Did Merlin have an ulterior motive this whole time? That would be disappointing; Eggsy likes Merlin. Merlin doesn't really give off that sleazy vibe, but then again, about the only thing Eggsy's sure of right now is that he's not getting fitted for a bespoke suit.

"Oh for Christ's sake, lad, I haven't got all day," Merlin scolds gently.

Eggsy narrows his eyes into slits, picks up JW and clutches him to his chest. He follows Merlin into the dressing room, and although it's much roomier than the rooms in high street shops, it's still a tight squeeze.

"Are you ready?" Merlin asks, meeting Eggsy's eyes through their reflection in the three-way mirror.

Eggsy squares his shoulders and sticks out his chin, "Seein' as I don't know what the fuck is goin' on, no, Merlin, I ain't ready."

Merlin, standing behind Eggsy, reaches his arm out and places his palm on the surface of the mirror, careful not to touch Eggsy. 

JW whines and his owner does the same as the floor begins to descend, "What the fuuucckk..."

Merlin stands at parade rest, back straight, feet hip's width apart, hands clasped behind his back. He clears his throat.

"Since 1849, Kingsman Tailors have clothed the world's most powerful individuals. In 1919, a great number of them had lost their heirs to World War I. That meant a lot of money going uninherited. And a lot of powerful men with the desire to preserve peace and protect life."

Merlin pauses, frowns and looks down at his clipboard, muttering under his breath until he finds his place, "Ah, here we are... ahem... Our founders realized that they could channel that wealth and influence for the greater good. And so began our adventure - an independent international intelligence agency operating at the highest level of discretion -  _need to remind Harry of that!_  - without the politics and bureaucracy that undermine the intelligence of government-run spy organizations."

Merlin checks his clipboard once more before delivering the final line with a flourish, "A suit is the modern gentleman's armor. And the Kingsman agents are the new knights."

Eggsy gives him a mocking slow clap. "Impressive, Merlin, but why the fuck are you tellin' me all this? What's it got to do wif me?" 

Merlin sighs. "Two things, Eggsy. First, it explains how Harry got into a coma and excuses his general odd behavior, although if I'm being honest with you, he's an odd man regardless..."

"So Harry's a Kingsman."

"Correct. A Kingsman agent."

Eggsy quirks an eyebrow, "So, like a spy?"

"Of sorts. And so is Roxanne."

Eggsy puffs out his cheeks and musses up his hair. Unbelievable. He needs a minute or two to digest this information.

"How deep does this fuckin' thing go?"

"Deep enough, Eggsy."

Eggsy shakes his head, still coming to terms with the fact that his boyfriend and best girl mate are super secret spies. "And the second reason?"

"I'm offering you a job, Eggsy."

The elevator comes to a stop with a loud thump. Eggsy refuses to step off the platform.

"Oh no, mate. The fuck do I look like to you? James Bond? I'm just a pleb!"

"My dear boy, you don't give yourself enough credit. You're intelligent, you got high marks at school, you're talented, and you survived intense training with the Marines with nothing but praise from your superiors. You're definitely an excellent candidate for the spy - if not the gentleman - part," Merlin teases. "Fortunately we have no current openings or I'd be tempted to propose you for candidacy."

Eggsy's miffed at the breach of privacy - does Kingsman have a file on him?! - but preens a bit at the praise. "If not a spy, what then?"

"Come with me."

 

**+**

 

Merlin leads Eggsy to the underground shuttle pod.

Merlin glances at his watch. Still a few minutes until the 30 minute mark since they walked into the shop. If Eggsy doesn't wish to go further, and he's certainly entitled, then Merlin will have to use one of his amnesia darts so that Eggsy won't remember anything past the fitting room. If Eggsy's curious enough about the job offer, then Merlin has some paperwork for him to sign. 

"Now, Eggsy, whether you end up accepting or rejecting this job offer, you will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement stating that anything you witness here today will remain strictly confidential. Any breach of information which can be traced back to you will result in your next of kin in a body bag, so consider your options carefully."

Eggsy looks suspiciously at the shuttle pod, but decides he's got nothing to lose. He's not worried about the non-disclosure agreement. Kingsman's secrets are safe with Eggsy.

He follows Merlin inside the shuttle pod, where he signs the paperwork.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy feels like he's been transported onto the set of the next Bond film. "Look, JW! Just like in the movies, innit?"

Eggsy's looking out a large window to a subterranean hangar, with rows upon rows of cars in a wide variety of makes and models, from vintage collectibles and state-of-the-art sports cars to practical SUVs and lorries. There's an array of black Kingsman cabs and several private aircrafts and small planes.

Eggsy whistles, his eyes wide as saucers, "Very  _very_  nice."  JW gives an accompanying "Boof!" of approval.

"Hmm, the light's on, someone must be working late," Merlin remarks as he leads them down a set of steps to the hangar level.

"So, if you lot are spies then, are you like the Q of Kingsman? Minus the..." Eggsy looks at Merlin's head.

Merlin glares at him. The toddler they've cast to play Q in the recent films does have a fabulous mop of hair though, he'll give him that. 

They walk along the hangar, Eggsy oohing and aahing at everything. It's a car lover's wet dream, really. Eggsy has to pinch himself to make sure he's not hallucinating, it's been over 24 hours since he had a good night's sleep after all, and that was in Harry's guest bedroom.

They come across an older gentleman, about Eggsy's height, with bushy white eyebrows to match a jaunty white mustache. He's dressed in mechanic's coveralls, but his are a cut above Eggsy's. They're black, with a tasteful gold K logo embroidered on one shoulder and the name  _Alfred_  monogrammed in gold thread in the front. He's polishing a Kingsman cab.

"Alfred! What are you doing here on a Sunday?" Merlin asks, wrapping his arm around the man's shoulders affectionately.

"Received word late in the afternoon that Arthur's making the rounds tomorrow," Alfred replies, "Vauxhall Cross and Buckingham, visiting the Queen or somesuch? Sounds awfully serious. I tried to convince him to take one of the Bentleys but you know how Arthur loves his cab."

"Drastic times call for drastic measures, I'm afraid, Alfred. We've got a megalomaniac on the loose, threatening worldwide mind control and whatnot."

They hear a loud gasp and Alfred sees Eggsy for the first time.

Eggsy stares at them, mouth agape. Merlin's kept plenty of things from Eggsy today but this one takes the cake. Megalomaniac?! Mind control?! Who cares about John Wick when there's some Doctor Who Cybermen apocalypse shite going down?!

It gets worse.

"Don't worry, Eggsy, Harry's gone to stop the madman."

Eggsy glares daggers at Merlin, who simply squeezes Eggsy's shoulder and says, "Trust me, Eggsy, this is what Kingsman does. You won't read about us in the papers, but we're here to keep people like you and your family safe." He smiles at Eggsy and breaks eye contact only when he feels the boy relax.

"Oh, how rude of me!" Merlin says, and nudges Eggsy forward, "Alfred, I'd like you to meet Eggsy Unwin, and his pup, JW."

Eggsy gives Merlin a long look and hisses, "We ain't done here, Merlin," before minding his manners and extending a hand to Alfred.

Alfred wipes his hands before shaking Eggsy's and gives JW a scratch behind his ears, "Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy. You're not a trainee, are you? I would have heard if an agent had perished in the line of duty."

"Err, no sir, not sure what I am at the moment," Eggsy replies. 

"Alfred, Eggsy here is a candidate for your replacement."

Alfred's entire face lights up, "Well Eggsy, you're hired!" he says without preamble, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically.

Eggsy's caught off-guard, "Wot? Oh, um, I'm not sure...," he mumbles.

Alfred grins at him and explains, "I've been planning to retire for decades now, but these knobheads refuse to let me go!"

"Oh, come now, Alfred," Merlin says, "it hasn't been  _decades_... well, maybe one decade."

Merlin turns to Eggsy, "Alfred is Kingsman's chief mechanic, and everyone is in denial that Alfred wishes to retire. We simply cannot imagine this place without him."

Alfred buzzes with excitement. "I've got to call my wife haven't I, tell her she can finally make all those travel plans!"

Eggsy laughs. He's only just met Alfred but he likes him already. "Haven't accepted the position yet, sir."

Alfred puts his arm around Eggsy, "And why not, lad? The pay's very good, don't worry about that, they pay you well to begin with, then on top of that they pay you to keep quiet, isn't that right, Merlin?"

"Absolutely. Now you won't get as many perks as the agents but you'll have plenty of benefits in addition to a generous salary."

Eggsy looks at them, wide-eyed, "Thas all very tempting and all, sir, but I have me own small garage out near Camden," he says shyly, "Put a lot o' work into it already -"

Alfred waves him off, "Pah! Not a problem, Eggsy, I'm here maybe two, three times a week at most. Merlin's team performs regular maintenance on the vehicles so you don't have to be here every day, you can make your own schedule and continue to work in your own garage if you like. Mostly you'll oversee things, schedule repairs, work on Arthur's car - he's the big boss 'round here, loves his silly cab," he says with a fond shake of the head.

"You will have a staff at your disposal, Eggsy," Merlin elaborates, "but they are officially members of the tech department. We like to keep the number of employees as low as possible, hence the double duty, but you will be the only mechanic specialist."

Alfred draws Eggsy closer, "And the best part? You'll be consulting with the tech team on weaponizing the cars. Just imagine it, Eggsy!" 

They can see the excitement in Eggsy's eyes, but still he resists, "Um, don't know nuffin' about planes, sir, weapons neivver, 'cept those I used in Marines training."

"Neither did I when I first started, Eggsy, you'll pick things up as you go along. I'm sure you're a quick study or Merlin would never have proposed you. The mechanical principles are the same, lad, you'll have no trouble at all."

Eggsy still has his doubts. It's a huge undertaking but a great opportunity. The lure of a regular paycheck is strong, and the perk of having access to all these beautiful cars goes without saying. He longs to speak with Harry, to get that push of confidence he desperately needs.

Alfred looks at Merlin with a glint in his eye, "I think the lad needs a bit of convincing."

Merlin tosses Eggsy a safety helmet and a flame retardant jacket and scoops up JW. Alfred slips on a fluorescent safety vest and grabs a pair of marshalling wands.

They walk Eggsy over to a luxurious but otherwise harmless looking black sedan. Eggsy hides his slight disappointment - he spotted a fuckin' Jaguar E-Type along the way!

"Now, Eggsy, this is the latest model from Tesla Motors, the all-electric Model S P90D sedan," Merlin says.

"It's got Ludicrous Mode, Eggsy," Alfred says with a wink.

"WHAT'S LUDICROUS MODE?"

Merlin gives him a sly smile. Alfred's mustache twitches.

"Hop in the driver's seat, lad."

 

**+**

 

The hangar doors open and Alfred directs Eggsy up the ramp with the marshalling wands. After a short drive he ends up in Kingsman's private race track. Eggsy takes a practice lap around the track while Merlin goes off to the side to turn on the stadium lights and loudspeakers.

He runs back down to where Eggsy's idling in the starting line of the straight portion of the track.

"Now go to controls," Merlin instructs, leaning over the passenger side, "Just so, Eggsy," he encourages as Eggsy taps on the car's central touchscreen panel. "Now go to 'Acceleration' and swipe right to turn on LUDICROUS."

Eggs cracks his knuckles and bounces excitedly in the driver's seat.

Merlin steps off the track, blasts some fast-paced song (by  _We Were Promised Jetpacks_ , Scottish indie rock band, naturally) through the track's speakers.

Alfred takes off his safety vest and uses it as a flag. He drops his arm, Merlin yells "FLOOR IT, EGGSY!" and Eggsy does.

For about 3 seconds, Eggsy gets a sense that's there's an endless supply of power - that if he keeps his foot on the pedal, he could get to warp factor 10.

Eggsy doesn't, he simply decelerates when he nears the end of the track, the short burst of adrenaline making his heart thump wildly. He takes a couple of fast laps around the track, marvels at the sedan's handling as he expertly rounds each turn. Finally, just as his heart rate slows down to a normal pace, he pulls up to a stop by the starting line, where his unorthodox band of cheerleaders - Merlin, Alfred, and JW - await.

"Well done, Eggsy! 0 to 60 in 3.3 seconds!"

Eggsy beams, then catches sight of Alfred. With a telltale twinkle in his eye, Alfred shrugs and feigns being unimpressed while casually mentioning, "Galahad went 0 to 60 in 2.9."

"Harry Hart, code name Galahad," Merlin supplies helpfully.

Eggsy's smile turns upside-down. "Fuckin' wanker."

"Isn't he just?" Merlin agrees gleefully.

"Gimme anovver shot, Merlin, I can beat the old tosser, I'm sure I could!"

Merlin nods, but just as he's about to reset the timer, an alarm rings from somewhere on his person.

Merlin taps on his glasses and appears to read whatever warning is scrolling through the lenses.

"Apologies, gentlemen, we'll have to do this another time. Galahad and Lancelot have just landed in Kentucky."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The car, now it's not a sports car, it's a sedan technically (all electric), but it does have supercar-grade acceleration like in Ferraris and such, so it doesn't look super-flashy, but it's still pretty cool I think:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And the Jaguar E-Type mmmm sexy thang:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's John Wick's house](http://www.dezeen.com/2015/07/21/flint-house-skene-catling-de-la-pena-lord-jacob-rothschild-waddesdon-manor-stone/), just outside London.
> 
> And here's [Kingsman's racing playlist](http://8tracks.com/hartwinning/floor-it) (can't talk about cars without _Machinehead_ by Bush) and [tracklist](https://40.media.tumblr.com/bd697fccc55cb0b420333de37c91bf61/tumblr_nuu99p63OC1r4pwt8o3_r1_500.png). I suppose if you don't have your own private racetrack it makes a decent workout playlist.
> 
> Also before you yell at me, do heed the "Harry Hart Lives" tag! (It's my motto, I ought to have it tattooed on my bum...)


	5. Mid-90s Chevrolet C1500 (Silverado)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Murrica - guns n' pancakes!, non-evil!ChesterKing (just a reminder), showdown in Kentucky y'all, Harry is a heathen, Roxy saves the day with brain and brawn, fight choreography lifted straight out of Oscar-winning biopic _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ , and our lowly mechanic Eggmuffin saves the world and gets the ~~girl~~ gentleman. 
> 
> Self beta'd, not Brit-picked.

 

 ** _VII. Harley-Davidson Iron 883s_**     

 

"Galahad," Roxy says, the faintest trace of worry in her voice, "do you remember, at the fitting, it was complete silence when we had the helmets on. It was an odd sensation to say the least and I wasn't doing much at the time, just sitting down."

"The thought had crossed my mind as well, Lancelot, it is quite disconcerting," Harry agrees as he follows Roxy out of the Kingsman jet, parked on the tarmac in the local airfield just outside Louisville, Kentucky.

"I just don't know how comfortable I'll be, riding around in a motorcycle unable to hear my surroundings," Roxy says with a slight grimace.

"Well it looks like we'll have the roads mostly to ourselves, and we can ride at a leisurely pace. I imagine we'll have to go slowly anyway - remember they drive opposite here," Harry says, looking around the quiet suburb, "Honestly I'm more concerned with fighting in the damn things, although I hope it won't come to that. Limited peripheral vision, no sound..." he trails off, realizing he's just added to Roxy's concerns instead of reassuring her.

"Hang on a tick," Harry pauses mid-stride to pull up a map of the surrounding area on his phone as they make their way to the small rental car section. "There's a Walmart not too far from here," he says, "I propose we ride over there for a bit of practice, and if either of us is too uncomfortable we can purchase regular helmets. We can easily switch over to these when we get closer to the church."

Roxy brightens and nods her head in approval, "Yes, Galahad! I am totally on board with this plan." She checks her Bremont to make sure they have enough time before the 5:30 pm service at South Glade Mission Church.

Roxy spies a pair of Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the far corner of the car-park, and for the moment her fears take a backseat to her excitement. She produces a key which Merlin provided them in their mission kits and Harry does the same.

They stuff their overnight bags into the tail trunks and straddle the motorcycles. They leave the helmets off for the time being to revel in the satisfying roar of the motorcycles as they circle the car-park, stretching out their legs after the long plane ride and performing any necessary adjustments to the seat and mirrors.

Harry secures his helmet. "Lancelot, do you copy?" he says, testing the glasses comms, "You lead the way to Walmart and I'll take up the rear." Harry wants to be first in line if anything takes them by surprise from behind.

Roxy puts on her helmet, takes a deep breath, and attempts to settle her nerves amidst the engulfing silence. "Sound check," she says.

"Loud and clear, Lancelot," Harry replies and gives her a thumbs up in encouragement.

Harry cuts quite a figure, perfect posture in his bespoke suit, his long legs astride the motorcycle. His head is completely enclosed by the futuristic, sound-deadening motorcycle helmet and the mirrored surface of the face shield gives him a sharp, slightly menacing look.  _But, like, in a hot way_ , Roxy thinks to herself as she snaps a photo of him on her phone to give to Eggsy when she returns to London. Not that her friend needs more material for his spank bank. Or maybe he does, considering how frequently he draws from it.

The turn-by-turn directions show up in her glasses and she exits the car-park and makes the first turn toward Walmart. She pays close attention at intersections and checks her mirrors obsessively.

Harry was right - they share the road with only a few cars at a time, there's no traffic, no large lorries or buses to worry about. It's just a sleepy American town with a 'Main Street' and houses which could have come out of a Norman Rockwell painting were it not for the Confederate flags in the windows.

Roxy gains confidence with each passing street and she picks up the pace.

"Agents," Merlin's voice comes in over comms a short while later, and Roxy relaxes further. They hadn't heard from Merlin since he saw them off at HQ early morning London time, which is nothing unusual, he has better things to do than entertain agents on long flights, "I see you've landed safely."

"Yes, Merlin," Roxy replies, "We're on the motorcycles, although you can't hear them on your end, I suppose. We're off to -"

"WALMART, MERLIN!!!" Harry yells excitedly in lieu of a proper greeting.

Roxy continues, suppressing a smile, "Yes, to Walmart. Galahad thought we could use the experience riding with the helmets, and if they prove too big a challenge we can purchase regular ones at Walmart. So far so good though, Merlin, if a bit weird to not actually hear the motorcycles."

"Thank you for the update, Lancelot," Merlin says. He decides to hold off on scolding Harry for the minor detour. Valentine had pushed things ahead so quickly they didn't have time to run proper field tests on the helmets. Besides, it's par for the course that Harry will do something to warrant a proper scolding at some point during the mission.

"It is awfully quiet, Merlin, can't you pipe in some music? Some classic American rock," Harry suggests, "Lynyrd Skynyrd, perhaps?"

Merlin rolls his eyes, "No, Galahad," he says sternly, before softening to his normal tone, "I'll keep an eye on your feeds and keep the channel open. I'm having quite the busy day here at HQ, but do check back in when you're settled in the motel."

"Yes, Merlin," Roxy confirms, clearly the more responsible adult between the two agents.  

 

**+**

 

Merlin mutes his outgoing audio feed and turns his attention to Eggsy, who's about halfway through the mound of paperwork he has to sign before he officially becomes an employee of Kingsman. 

The Tesla test drive had done the trick - Eggsy accepted the job on the spot, and it took a combined effort from him and Merlin to convince Alfred not to walk off the job right then and there. One month to train Eggsy, they finally settled on, and Alfred would be free to enjoy his well-deserved retirement. They left Alfred in the hangar, holding his phone an arm's length away to protect his eardrums from the high-pitched squealing of his wife as he delivered the good news. 

Merlin tried to dismiss Eggsy and send him home, offering to have the paperwork ready for Eggsy to sign the following day, but Eggsy was adamant about watching Harry's Kentucky mission feed. Merlin eventually gave in and Eggsy had to sign a tall stack of confidentiality and nondisclosure agreements before he was even allowed within a ten meter radius of the control center.

An even taller stack of paperwork, which Merlin had prepared while Eggsy was signing the necessary clearance forms, is waiting for Eggsy's signatures in Merlin's office - 'the fishbowl,' as it's more commonly known, situated in the middle of the control room, separated from the rest of the team via glass walls which provide Merlin a 360° view.

The terms and conditions are written in plain language and Eggsy doesn't feel too out of his depth as he reads the legalese, but there is quite a lot of it.

Eggsy comes across an agreement form to undergo training in withstanding interrogation and torture, in the (unlikely, Merlin assures him) scenario he gets captured for his involvement with Kingsman. He thinks about his mum and Daisy and it gives him pause.

He's beginning to have second thoughts when he flips over to the next document, which just so happens to be the salary and benefits package. Eggsy's certain it was intentional. His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "This is for part time, Merlin?" he asks, incredulous.

Merlin nods without turning away from his monitors.

"Blimey," Eggsy mutters to JW and shakes his head. Alfred wasn't exaggerating about the hush money. There's even a fucking signing bonus. Eggsy made it halfway through the rigorous Royal Marines officer program - what's a few more torture training exercises? Eggsy makes quick work of the rest of the pile.

"Are you sure you want to watch, lad?" Merlin asks gently, "We're seasoned agents and handlers here, we're used to this sort of thing, but this mission in particular is very unpredictable. I know you miss Harry, but you've had a long day and by the time Galahad and Lancelot - Harry's and Roxy's code names, if you remember - get to the actual mission, it will be well past dinner time."

"I need to be here, Merlin, I ain't leavin'," Eggsy says firmly, "I already texted me mum, told her I'm safe but I'll be out late."

Merlin sighs, and for the second time in less than an hour he gives in to Eggsy. Harry's in a world of trouble if Eggsy's puppy face is as effective on Harry as it is, embarrassingly, on Merlin. The young man will be spoiled rotten, no doubt.

Merlin hands Eggsy an earpiece. "Now then, Eggsy, I've disabled the audio output, so no one in the channel will be able to hear you - I'm sorry, but I can't have Harry distracted during this mission and he'd go out of his mind if he heard your voice," he says with a smile. Eggsy looks adorably abashed.

"And Eggsy," Merlin continues, "I cannot stress this enough, you must not interfere with our work. You have to trust us; if something goes awry, we will handle it. Handlers are trained to appear calm at all times, so keep that in mind. We cannot allow fear, passion, or adrenaline to cloud our judgment when an agent's life is on the line."

Eggsy nods obediently. While fancy gadgets and weaponized cars are the stuff of movies and little kids' 'when I grow up' fantasies, this is real, and so is the danger.

Merlin sits Eggsy down in a small plush sofa in his office and hands him a portable touchscreen monitor while giving him a rundown of the current situation. "You'll be watching the video feed from Harry's glasses, but you'll hear all three of us in the audio channel. The glasses' recording device is equipped with a video stabilization algorithm which minimizes shake, so while it takes a bit of getting used to, you should be able to watch the feed without dizziness, nausea, or other ill effects."

Eggsy looks down at the screen. He reckons it's a bit like a first-person shooter. There's a thick black border around the live video feed - "Izzat Roxy on a fuckin' Harley?!" - with small, bright green blocky text showing messages or status.

Merlin goes back to his station and sits down, finger hovering over his glasses, ready to tap in to rejoin the mission channel. "Are you ready, Eggsy?"

"Yeah, guv. Patch me through!" Eggsy wriggles excitedly, planting his bum in the soft leather of the sofa.

Eggsy's earpiece picks up the audio feed just in time to hear Harry attempt to sound out the guitar solo in Lynyrd Skynyrd's  _Free Bird_. It's a butchered rendition of the famous triple guitar solo, a blasphemy in the altar of rock n' roll, but Eggsy's absolutely delighted.

He smiles when he hears Roxy's familiar posh accent, "Do make him stop, Merlin."

"Galahad, that's enough," Merlin scolds.

Merlin catches a glimpse of Eggsy, a hand clamped over his mouth to keep from laughing. The mere sound of Harry's voice, godawful screeching aside, transforms the young man's face. He has a dreamy, glazed look in his eyes, his mouth is parted slightly and his cheeks are flushed. If Eggsy was alone Merlin doesn't doubt he'd plant a kiss on the screen.

Merlin smiles to himself before turning his attention back to his station. He sends a silent prayer that Harry and Roxy return to them safely.  

 

 **+**   

 

Eggsy realizes he's in for a long night after Googling the time difference between Kentucky and London. He kicks off his trainers and curls up in the sofa with JW splayed on his stomach.

Harry and Roxy make it to Walmart without incident. Eggsy gapes at the Ford trucks and Hummers and all manner of petrol-guzzlers dotting Walmart's car-park as the two agents dismount their motorcycles. Eggsy glances over to Roxy's feed, which takes center stage in Merlin's grid of monitors, and catches a glimpse of Harry removing his helmet and fluffing his hair.

Eggsy relaxes with Harry and Roxy's murmuring in his ear, their soft gasps as they walk down the aisles of Walmart, pointing at things and picking things up to read labels. He's loving this, seeing the world through Harry's eyes. 

"Merlin, you would love this place," Harry gushes, "they sell firearms alongside liquor and alarmingly gigantic poultry!"

"A winning combination," Merlin responds dryly.

"This place is amazing," Roxy agrees, awed, "Their beauty section alone is as big as an entire Tesco!"

Moments later Eggsy watches through Harry's feed as Roxy hands Harry her phone and he snaps a photo of her, helmet tucked neatly under her arm, leaning against the ammunition counter in front of a glass shelf displaying an impressive number of rifles.

(Later, when Eggsy's given access to the private, intra-network app Kingstagram - ha, ha, Merlin - on his secure Kingsman-issued phone, he'll recognize the photo, hashtagged #Americana.)

Eggsy tenses up when he begins to notice a number of openly admiring - verging on lewd - glances captured by Harry's glasses. He's well aware of how attractive Harry is, and considering he's wearing a bespoke suit among a sea of ill-fitting, tacky clothing, he shouldn't be surprised that every single person shoots Harry an appreciative glance. 

Eggsy looks up once again to view Roxy's feed on the grid. She's earning her fair share of admiring looks as well, mostly from awkward pimply teenage boys, but she must be giving them some sort of evil-eye stare-down because they look away quickly or cower behind their parents.

Eggsy bristles. He thinks it's a bit excessive, honestly, but when neither Roxy nor Merlin mentions it, he realizes they're accustomed to the attention Harry gets (he's not one for the 'fly-under-the-radar' missions, Eggsy guesses), and it's probably something Eggsy will have to get used to as well.

To his credit, Harry never once turns around to reciprocate with an appraising look of his own. It's doubly comforting knowing that Harry is unaware that Eggsy's watching his feed an ocean away.  

In fact, the only time Harry's gaze lingers is when they're in the baking supplies section. Eggsy watches curiously as Harry makes a beeline for something, then jumps when Harry suddenly yells "PANCAKE MIX!" and starts grabbing boxes off the shelf.

Eggsy bursts out laughing, his stomach shaking, and JW whines when he's nearly upended. God he misses Harry. Merlin gives Eggsy a 'what the hell is wrong with your boyfriend' look, which only makes him laugh harder.

Harry seems overwhelmed, reaching for boxes while gazing longingly at the oversize jugs of maple syrup one shelf below. Harry's hand hovers over a box labelled 'Pumpkin Spice Waffle Mix'.

"Galahad, you don't even have a waffle iron," Roxy points out.

Harry sniffs. "Well, I could," he says indignantly, "They sell waffle irons here, Lancelot!"

"Lancelot, Galahad," Merlin warns, "Feel free to fill up the plane with bulk purchases of firearms, liquor, and pancake mix, but only  _after_  successful completion of this high-stakes mission."

Eggsy watches as Harry dejectedly places the boxes back on the shelf.

In the end, both Harry and Roxy elect not to purchase regular helmets. They leave Walmart empty-handed, hop back on the motorcycles, and ride to the motel.  

 

**+**

 

Eggsy gets up and stretches.

Merlin hands him a temporary ID badge and a security pass, "If the pass won't let you in, lad, then you're not supposed to be there," and Eggsy goes about finding some dinner for JW. He follows his (actually, mostly JW's) nose to the kitchen, fully expecting to have to cobble something together from whatever he finds in the fridge.

Eggsy soon discovers just how dog-friendly Kingsman is when the kitchen staff serves up a small dish of home-cooked dog food for JW, who laps it up eagerly. Eggsy gets a whiff of it and surmises it probably tastes better than some of the meals he's had when money was particularly tight.

Eggsy's allowing JW some time to settle his stomach before taking him out for a walk when he notices a distinguished old gentleman walk into the control center. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes tense and everyone's back straightens.

"Eggsy," Merlin hisses, "that's Chester King, code name Arthur, head of Kingsman. Speak English -"

"Oi!"

"Properly, Eggsy, try not to sound like such a chav, he's very old-fashioned, a bit of a classist snob."

Arthur slowly makes his way across the control center, pausing occasionally at a handler's station to observe. Eventually he arrives in Merlin's sanctuary.

"Arthur, may I present Gary Unwin, Alfred's replacement," Merlin says with a dramatic sweep of his arm in Eggsy's direction, "We've recruited him from - ahem - Unwin Auto Repairs, out in Camden. Comes highly recommended by Galahad. Gary here takes care of all of Galahad's personal needs -"

Eggsy glares at Merlin.

"- concerning car repair," Merlin finishes.

Eggsy stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back, as he succumbs to Arthur's inspection.

"Army?" Arthur asks shrewdly, ever observant.

"No, sir. Marines. Well, almost. I was halfway through officer training when m-my mother," Eggsy catches himself before he says 'me mum', "My mother called me back home, sir, family emergency." Just one sentence of attempting to speak posh and Eggsy's throat is already complaining.  

"Hm. Well, I'm sorry to see Alfred go but he's certainly waited long enough. We've selfishly kept him from retirement far too long, I'm afraid," Arthur says as he extends a hand, "Welcome aboard, Gary."

Eggsy grips his hand and gives it a firm shake. "Thank you, Arthur, sir."

"Cute dog," Arthur says, hearing a sniffle from JW, "What's his name?"

"JW."

At Arthur's inquisitive look, Eggsy explains, "After John Wick, sir." He can't think of anything else JW could stand for, and he figures lying to the head of a super-spy organization wouldn't be the smartest move.

"Are you acquainted with Mr. Wick?"

 _Shit_. Eggsy clears his throat, "I err... drove... his car today, sir, a vintage Ford Mustang."

"And how is Mr. Wick? Does retirement suit him?"

"Yes, sir, I think so, although there was some talk of dinner reservations," Eggsy says with knowing smirk - gotta let Arthur know he's all up in the assassin lingo - while inwardly cringing at how much haughtier he sounds when he speaks properly.

Arthur chuckles. Mercifully he seems satisfied and drops the topic. "Merlin, I'm heading back to the shop before going home. Keep me apprised of any major developments."

Merlin nods, "Certainly, Arthur."

Arthur turns to Eggsy, "Is my cab ready? I have several stops to make tomorrow."

Eggsy looks Arthur in the eye, unwavering under the old gentleman's scrutiny, "Yes, sir, Alfred has not fully relinquished the position, sir, so he's still chief mechanic, however when we left him in the garage I see... I  _saw_  Alfred putting the final polish on the exterior, sir." Eggsy speaks slowly, minding the H's in the beginning of words and pronouncing all syllables through to the end.

"Very good," Arthur says, before abruptly switching topics again, "Have you spent some time in the States, Gary?"

"Sir?" Eggsy says, confused, and furrows his brows, "No, sir, never been."

"Huh," Arthur says and shrugs, "I can't quite place your accent."

Eggsy tries not to show how offended he is but out of the corner of his eye he can see Merlin's shoulders shaking.

Arthur turns on his heel, giving Eggsy a glimpse of his own military background, and takes his leave of Eggsy and Merlin. He calls out without looking back, "Merlin, schedule an appointment for Gary to see Dagonet at the shop for the full wardrobe starter kit."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as Arthur's out of sight, Eggsy collapses on the sofa. "Fuckin' 'ell!"

He looks over at Merlin, who's busy tapping away at his touchscreen. "Unwin Auto Repairs?" Eggsy asks, lifting a patchy eyebrow, "'s got a nice ring to it."

"I thought you might like that," Merlin says, "You should definitely consider it now that you're sole proprietor."

Eggsy grins. His signing bonus from Kingsman would go a long way in setting up the garage to how he's always imagined it, as long as he manages the funds carefully. He could ask his mum for guidance, keep her busy so that she won't have time to mourn the loss of Dean in their lives.

Merlin's voice brings him back to the present, "I've set you up for a 3 pm appointment at the shop on Monday. Don't be late."

"I ain't wearin' a suit, guv."

Merlin sighs. "Neither will you be wearing t-shirts you've nicked from Harry's closet and obviously slept in and jeans you pull up your bum every five seconds, Eggsy. You won't be expected to work in a full three piece, but you need a few pairs of trousers and some nicer shirts."

Eggsy groans. "Arfur hates me, don't he? Is he gonna fire me when he finds out I'm a fuckin' juvie?"

"Arthur is one of the most powerful men in Britain," Merlin says tiredly, lifting up his glasses and rubbing his eyes, "Trust me, Eggsy, he has far more important things to do than worry about a mechanic. More to the point, he trusts me, which is why he didn't question your employment."

Eggsy thinks perhaps it's Merlin who's the most powerful man in Britain, but he keeps it to himself. "I hafta speak proper all the time?"

"You don't have to, Eggsy, but you should. You'll be here only a few days a week and it will make your job easier. Trust me, you don't want Arthur scowling at you all day."

Eggsy pouts, which makes Merlin smile, so he turns away. "It's not that difficult, Eggsy, just, I don't know, emulate Harry or something." 

Several trays of pizzas with different toppings materialize out of thin air, and Eggsy gets introduced around the tech department while they have dinner. He volunteers to hand out slices to those handlers unable to leave their stations. Everyone is friendly and welcoming, if a bit taken aback by his chav speak, and Eggsy's rash decision to join Kingsman sits a bit easier with him.  

 

**+**

 

Roxy and Harry eat a late lunch of Kentucky 'hot brown' sandwiches ("When in Rome, Lancelot") and retire to their separate rooms to freshen up. Neither of them takes a nap, they're too on edge to fall asleep.

Harry had propped up his glasses on the induction charger on the bedside table, upside-down (but Eggsy simply rotates his touchscreen) and seemingly casually, but Eggsy notices that the view from the glasses covers almost the entire hotel room, including all exits.

More importantly, Eggsy gets an eyeful of Harry performing a few Krav Maga maneuvers with his helmet on, wearing nothing but his trousers and a fresh undershirt which hugs his trim waist and shows off the flat plane of his stomach.

Eggsy runs a hand over his bloated pizza belly and wonders if it's appropriate to ask Merlin whether or not agents' feeds are saved for posterity and research purposes.

(Later, when Eggsy receives a secure Kingsman-issued laptop, there's a pre-loaded file containing a selection of Harry's field missions - the other knights call it his 'showreel'. Eggsy renames the file  _i_should_NOT_be_turned_on_by_this.mov_  and replays it nonstop.)

Eggsy looks over Merlin's shoulder to view Roxy's glasses feed. She, too, has her glasses propped up somewhere and is in a similar state of undress, but instead of martial arts she's bopping around to music, her helmet head appearing disproportionately large compared to her petite frame.

Merlin and the other handlers don't seem at all affected. No such thing as privacy when you're a spy, apparently.

Harry, glasses back on, buttons up his shirt and fixes his cufflinks, admiring himself in the full-length mirror and giving his reflection a rakish wink before slipping on his shoulder holster.

It's the shoulder holster that does Eggsy in, and he's not quite sure what to make of that. He squirms in his seat before discreetly draping Harry's puffer coat over his crotch. Who knew a reverse strip tease could be so pornographic?

Eggsy taps the touchscreen lightly to see if any 'Save feed' options appear.

"Now then," Merlin says when the two agents are just about ready to leave the motel, "we've been monitoring the area since yesterday, as soon as Valentine let slip his plans in Alexander McQueen. Unfortunately there are very few CCTV cameras we can appropriate for our use in that area, but our surveillance did pick up three 'men in black' so to speak, late last night, past midnight Kentucky time. They spent some time inside the church. We know for certain they installed a camera because we've already hacked into it. Unfortunately the men had left by then, so we don't know whether or not they also installed some sort of electronic device to trigger the SIM cards. We'll also be alerted if anyone else logs in to view the camera feed."

"Did they set up cameras outside the church as well, Merlin?" Harry asks.

"No they did not, Galahad," Merlin replies, "the rear of the church and the right flank, if you're viewing the church from the front, are free from surveillance, so keep that in mind as you move through the area. There's been no activity in the church and surrounding area since the visit by those three men, so if you two leave right now you should arrive at the church before Valentine and his team get there."

"Thank you, Merlin." 

 

**+**

 

Around 2:30 pm the two agents hop on their motorcycles and head to the church. They're more subdued this time around, absorbed in mentally preparing themselves for whatever Valentine has in store. Harry provides no additional soundtrack, and Roxy seems to have settled into riding with her helmet on. 

They park the motorcycles in a grove of trees behind the church, a few meters beyond the church car-park.

"Stay here, Lancelot, until we know the exact nature of Valentine's test and whether or not the helmets will protect us," Harry tells her, "If they fail and I'm compromised somehow, it will be up to you to find and disable the trigger mechanism." If indeed Valentine intends to isolate the church for his test, then Roxy should be a safe enough distance away.

"Yes, Galahad."

"Keep your helmets on at all times from here on out, both of you, no exceptions," Merlin says before adding, "Also, Lancelot, I've received word that Percival and Bors have arrived safely in the Komi Republic."

Harry makes his way to the rear of the church. There's a small side entrance in the back. He tries to peek in through one of the windows, but unfortunately they're all frosted stained-glass. Harry's glasses indicate no heat signatures inside the church, which is expected, with two hours yet until the start of service.

Harry jiggles the door knob. Just a basic lock then. He picks the lock easily and slips inside the church.

"One exit in the rear left," Harry reports, "Rear being the altar side, to be clear - two side doors leading into a vestibule before the front, main entrance."

Harry spots the surveillance camera immediately. It's a standard dome camera and it's the only one in the church as far as he can tell. He transmits the camera location to HQ via his glasses so that they can confirm it's the same one they hacked into.

He checks the altar, the pipe organ, and the pews for any unusual electronic equipment but finds none. The vestibule is clear as well, there are only empty coat hooks and shelves, and the ever-present Confederate flag.

"All clear," he reports.

Harry looks around for a good hiding spot - he can't exactly blend in with the congregation with his helmet on. He sees a small structure in the side of the church, underneath the camera and less than a meter to its right, so it should be out of its visual range.

"I'm going to hide in the loo," Harry announces.

"The loo?" Roxy asks, confused.

Harry tries again, "The wardrobe in the corner?"

Merlin's sigh is audible all the way from England, "He's talking about the confessional, Lancelot."  

Eggsy snorts.

Harry can't see Roxy but he can somehow sense her facepalm.

"Confessional?" Harry asks as he makes his way over.  

"I believe it's mostly a Catholic thing, you know, confess your sins to a priest and ask for forgiveness or somesuch," Merlin explains, "I'm not sure which particular sect of Christianity this church subscribes to, I don't believe it's Catholic but it's an old church, it's possible it's gone through more than one denomination in its history. It could also be a multi-purpose meeting space, especially in a small town like this."

"Yes, it must be a relic, it doesn't look like it's used very often," Harry says, noting two chambers separated by a metal grille - one with a kneeler behind a thick curtain, and another slightly larger chamber with a chair. Well, he's certainly not going to kneel for two hours, so Harry settles into the priest's chair and shuts the door. He has a decent view of the pews out of the small, decorative cut-outs in the wooden door.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Harry begins solemnly, "and I fully intend on continuing down this path of sin. I'm a heathen and a whore, planning on engaging in various, extremely filthy sexual acts, out of wedlock, with a male lover who's half my age."

Eggsy's face turns as red as the fiery depths of hell. He studiously avoids looking in Merlin's direction.

"Galahad, if you had to confess all of your sins you'll need more than a lifetime of penance to make up for them."  

"Merlin, the only context I'll allow the term 'penance' in involves naughty boys and spankings," Harry says.

Then, addressing Roxy in a serious tone, "We're in for a long wait if you wish to confess, my child."

Roxy snorts, "Someone was having a laugh when the title of 'Galahad the Pure' was bestowed on you, I'm afraid. I feel like if we tried baptizing you, the water would start boiling around you. I'm quite certain you're the least qualified to hear confessions, Galahad. Have you ever even read the Bible?"

"Honestly, Lancelot, I can't remember, but I must have at some point," Harry muses, "it's referenced so often in literature."

The three of them continue in the same vein as they while away the hours until the start of service. Eggsy's certain he'll never witness another Bible discussion as entertaining as this.

 

**+**

 

The preacher arrives about an hour before service begins, and it's around this time that Roxy notices activity in the house across the street from the church.

"I didn't see anyone pull up to the front of the house, so they must have gone through the back garden," she reports, looking through her binoculars, "I see movement on the first floor. It looks like someone's looking at the church through the window without bothering to raise the blinds."

"Can you get heat signatures on the house, Lancelot?" Merlin asks.

"Negative, Merlin, I'm out of range. Shall I move closer?"

"Hold position, Lancelot, your priority at the moment is the church," Merlin replies, "It just occurred to me that if it is indeed Valentine inside that house, Gazelle would be with him, and only the upper half of her body would register warm in a thermal scan."

The congregation starts to filter in and soon the pews are at capacity. Harry's impressed. Even the rows of extra chairs in front of the pews are filled quickly. So far no one's come around to reveal Harry's hiding place, although he finds it unnerving to sit in complete silence while a crowd mills in front of him.

Harry surveys the congregation but doesn't find anyone suspicious, although he does note that several parishioners are packing heat. "Who brings a gun to a church?" Harry murmurs.

"It's the American way, Galahad," Merlin replies, "Apparently their solution to gun violence and mass shootings is more guns in the hands of citizens."

Roxy continues to monitor the house across the street.

"Just received word from tech that someone logged in to monitor the church camera feed, so whoever's in that house is almost certainly involved," Merlin informs them. "Showtime, agents."

Harry turns on his cell phone's audio recording feature and sits patiently through the service, his phone transmitting the audio live to HQ, where the tech department then bounces the sound back through the glasses comms so that Harry and Roxy can follow in real-time without risking taking off their soundproof helmets for a listen.

There's music and singing at one point, and the polyglot in Harry appreciates the rare opportunity to listen to the English language spoken with that distinctive Southern twang.

And then the sermon begins.

 

**+**

****

_"...Our filthy government condones sodomy! divorce! abortion!!! And yet some still doubt this_is_the_work of the An_ti_christ! You_do_not_have_to_be a Jew, a nigger, a whore, or an a_the_is_tic science-loving e_vo_lu_tion spouter!..."_

"Charming sermon," Merlin says wryly.

"I cannot take much more of this," Harry groans into the comms while the preacher drones on. "May I stop recording? Preserve my phone's battery?" he pleads.

"Keep recording, Galahad, the service shouldn't last much longer after the sermon and Valentine might make a move soon."

Suddenly Harry and Merlin hear a loud gasp from Roxy.

"Is everything all right, Lancelot?" Merlin asks.

"Maybe it's nothing..." Roxy hesitates.

"Speak your mind, Lancelot, we trust your instincts," Harry urges gently, desperate to listen to something other than the preacher's vitriol.

"Well, it's just... all this talk earlier with Galahad, about the Bible, and now this sermon. We've never made the connection before with the missing VIPs, but what if this is Valentine's twisted version of Noah's ark?"

"He wants to rid the world of evil and start afresh with a handpicked group of people? A group which apparently includes Iggy Azalea?" Harry asks skeptically, "But the SIM cards were offered to everyone - distribution wasn't limited to hateful congregations of racists and antisemites." Harry's thoughts turn briefly to Eggsy and his mother, queuing all day for Valentine's SIM cards, but he doesn't allow those thoughts to linger.

"Perhaps Valentine chose to perform the test in this particular church because he thought the world would benefit from their elimination," Merlin says quietly.

Harry begins to think aloud, trying to connect the dots, "Now what do we know about this technology? The ultrasound waves target specific brain cells, so in theory Valentine could switch various functions of the brain on or off." 

Another gasp from Roxy, "The mercenaries! The ones the former Lancelot was following, and those biological weapons - wasn't there an incident...?"

"Chechnya, 2013," Merlin says slowly, realization dawning, "Insurgents turned on one another, indisputably the work of those mercenaries, but no trace of chemicals of any kind."

Harry shuts his eyes to try and concentrate - apparently the Antichrist is quite the busy bee, there's no end in sight to the preacher's hateful speech - "I feel like we're missing a piece of the puzzle. There's still the unresolved issue of Professor Arnold's kidnapping - why would Valentine be interested in his research on the Gaia Theory?"

Harry's eyes snap open. "Oh my god - it's depopulation.  _It's a human culling plan_."

 

**+**

 

"Jesus," Eggsy mutters. Part of him wants to yell for Harry to get the hell out of there.

"I'm patching Arthur in on this," Merlin says, jaw set in a grim line.

"Movement from the house across the street," Roxy says, "Two armed men in suits, walking toward the front of the church."

Eggsy's heart is racing. His knuckles are white from clutching the touchscreen so tightly. JW whinnies softly beside him, sensing the elevated tension in the air.

Harry reports nothing out of the ordinary inside the church.

"Galahad, the armed suits have come 'round to the back, they're barricading the door," Roxy says, "I assume they did the same to the main entrance."

"Merlin," Harry says hurriedly, "if the helmets block incoming sound waves, am I correct in assuming sound doesn't come out of the helmets either?" 

"Yes, that's correct, Galahad. However, I can link the mic in your glasses to your phone," Merlin replies while he taps away, instantly gleaning Harry's intent, "Just put your phone on speaker and turn up the volume if you need to address the congregation." 

"Change in plan, Lancelot," Harry says calmly, knowing that Merlin or Arthur will overrule him if they deem it necessary, "We'll just have to put our faith in the tech department and trust that the helmets will protect us. See what you can do about the guards and I'll begin evacuation."

"On my way, Galahad," Roxy says.

"Will my phone continue recording and bouncing back audio while I use the speakerphone, Merlin? I might need to reply to someone at some point," Harry asks.

"Yes of course, ye of little faith," Merlin says lightly, but inwardly he's berating himself for being so caught up with sorting out Eggsy that he neglected to train Harry and Roxy on the additional features the tech team had implemented in conjunction with the helmets.

"Well, I'll be!" Harry says in his best, high-pitched Scarlett O'Hara,  _Gone with the Wind_  Southern drawl, "They sure don't call you a magician for nothin'!"

"Focus, Galahad," Merlin scolds but allows himself a small smile.

Harry checks his phone. Battery level still strong (thank you, tech team), so he keeps recording. He sets his phone to maximum volume and puts it on speaker before slipping it into his breast pocket. He's so completely out of place in this environment, adding a phone voice won't make much of a difference at this point.

Then he makes an unnecessarily dramatic exit out of the confession booth, the drapes whooshing in the wake of the slammed door.

"Pardon the interruption, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please," Harry announces, "There are reports of a psychopath in the area, intent on doing major damage to the church. We need to evacuate immediately."

He rolls his eyes as several people draw their guns amid expressions of shock and concern, "Put those away, please, there'll be no need for those."

Just outside the church, Roxy comes up behind the two guards, using the element of surprise to knock them both unconscious swiftly. She zip ties their hands and feet and leans their bodies up against the fence.

"Both guards down," Roxy says, "Unable to lift the front barricade without tools or help." She grunts with effort, "Unblocking the rear door as we speak."

Harry begins to direct the crowd, "For your own safety, please proceed toward the rear exit in an orderly fashion."

The shock of Harry's sudden appearance wears off and the congregation slowly blink themselves out of their stunned stupor.

"Who the heck d'ya think you are, son?," someone pipes up, "Where d'ya come from anyway? Y'all don't sound like yer from around these parts. Y'all bust in here, interruptin' the word o' the Lawd, ain't no helmet gone protect you from no terrorist!"

Before Harry can make up some drivel about being in Her Majesty's secret service - Americans seem to be obsessed with the royal family - someone else yells out, "That's what happens when you let them brownies in ter the country! Vote fer Trump!"

"What?!" Harry says, flabbergasted.

And yet another - "Let us all join hands and pray!," and the crowd murmurs its assent, "Amen! Amen!"

Harry mutters a string of profanities and takes the Lord's name in vain several times.

It's the last straw. He's run out of patience and they're running out of time. He turns off the recording function on his phone and concentrates on evacuating the church-goers without the distraction of their idiotic, nonsensical babbling. He'll shove them out of the church or carry them off bodily if he has to.

In the house across the street, Gazelle and Valentine gape at the monitor as they watch the scene unfold inside the church.

"Gazelle, what the fuck?!" Valentine exclaims.

"It's those Kingsmen," Gazelle says blandly, recognizing the bespoke suit and Harry's distinctive bearing.

Harry tries to get at least the youngest parishioners - fortunately there are no babies or young children - to begin moving while Roxy stands guard just outside the door, ready to herd everyone to safety.

"Enough is enough!" Valentine says, "I've had it with that motherfucking Daft Punk bullshit in my motherfucking church!!"  

Half the church begins chanting prayers while the other half continues to gape at Harry.

"Fuck this, I'm starting the test  _now,_ " Valentine says as he turns the dial on his device.

Everyone in the church stills in unison. The majority reach for their phones and stare dazedly at the spinning Valentine Corp. logo on their screens.

"Something's happening," Harry says, "I think Valentine may have triggered the SIM cards. I'm unaffected though, so the helmet's effectively blocking the sound waves. I -"

Harry doesn't get to finish.

All hell breaks loose.

 

 

_**VIII. Chevrolet C1500 Pick-Up Truck** _

 

 

"Galahad, what the heck is going on?" Merlin tries to rein in the helpless feeling he gets watching the chaos from 6,000 kilometers away.

"Lancelot!" Harry yells, forgetting there's no need since the helmets block all outside noise, "Knock out as many people as you can. Go for the ones with guns first!"

Harry grabs as many firearms as he can, releasing their magazines and tossing them as far away from the gun as he can before firing at the roof in case there are any bullets left in the chamber.

Harry and Roxy fall into a rhythm, an odd dance amidst the pandemonium, fighting with their backs together as much as possible to prevent attacks from behind. Harry disarms people, divesting them of their guns or other increasingly inventive makeshift weapons - chair legs splintered off, crucifixes fashioned into stakes, someone was even attempting to bludgeon a fellow church-goer with a Bible while another was repeatedly slamming into someone with a pew - while Roxy delivers non-fatal blows to render them unconscious. The stubborn ones she hits with tranquilizer darts. It's not as difficult as she had imagined it would be to fight in the helmets; perhaps her visual sense of her surroundings is heightened to compensate for her inability to hear and match sounds to those surroundings.

Arthur joins in and splits handler duties with Merlin. Together they direct the pair of agents to dodge bullets and blows as best they can using the hacked camera feed and the limited visuals through the agents' glasses.

Eggsy would enjoy this amazing display of skill if he knew for certain that Harry and Roxy will come out of it unharmed. Harry is a graceful fighter, economic in his movements, posture never flagging, and Roxy is impossibly fast and efficient, precise in her hits.

There are way too many close calls for Eggsy's comfort. A couple of bullets whiz past Harry, and Eggsy almost screams when a bullet hits Roxy in the chest, until he watches through her feed as she looks down, tugs on her suit jacket, and the bullet falls to the floor like magic.

"Tha' is  _sick_ ," Eggsy murmurs.

Both agents know that they can't possibly save everyone but they fight tirelessly and give it their all. Some might even argue that these people don't deserve to be saved, but it's not their call to make; if they did they'd be no better than Valentine, picking and choosing who gets to live and who dies.

"Lancelot, you have to find the source of the signal and assess the situation, whether we can stop Valentine's team on our own or would have to devise another plan," Harry says when the unconscious or dead bodies finally outnumber those still on their feet, "Some of these people will regain consciousness, and if Valentine's signal remains active, we'll be stuck in a vicious loop."

"Yes, Galahad," she says as they work together to stop a man from skewering three people at once with a pole.

Harry continues to disarm and knock people out, making a circuit around the church, keeping his back to the walls to eliminate one blind spot. Harry doesn't even get the chance to give Roxy an encouraging wave. By the time he's spared a millisecond to look around for her telltale helmet, she's gone.

 

**+**

 

"We are now treating this as two separate missions so that Lancelot can have Merlin's full attention," Arthur says.

He doesn't voice his concern that this mission is far beyond the scope of rookie knights - he knows Roxy is aware of it. Before she left London Arthur had offered her one last chance to take the mission with Percival instead. She declined, and he extracted a promise from her that she would let them know the moment she felt out of her depth, so that they could plan accordingly and not jeopardize the mission.

"Merlin will continue to monitor both of your feeds, but Tariq will be Galahad's handler for the time being. We'll return to the fully open channel when the need arises."

Roxy runs out the rear exit of the church as soon as she manages to extricate herself from the mass of mind-controlled people in the church.

She catches sight of one of the armed suits wriggling in the zip ties she had bound him in earlier, near the fence where she had left him and the other armed suit, so she pauses just long enough to shoot them both with a tranquilizer dart and disable their communication equipment before making her way to the house across the street.

Roxy has to take a circuitous route to avoid being seen by whoever's peeking through the first floor window. She sprints across the field behind the church, hiding behind a small cluster of trees, to where she and Harry parked the motorcycles. She could just as easily run to the house but she might need a quick getaway.

She parks the motorcycle about two streets away from the house and moves stealthily toward the neighboring house's back garden, ducking behind cars and white picket fences and hiding behind shrubbery. 

"One armed guard in the front entrance, and I'm counting four heat signatures inside the house, all on the first floor. One of them is definitely Gazelle," she reports. "The rear entrance is unguarded and there are no heat signatures in the ground floor. Shall I go in?"

"Hold position, Lancelot," Arthur says, "We need proof of Valentine's involvement on record and more information about the worldwide activation of the SIM cards. Unfortunately we haven't received any intel from Percival or Bors yet, so we should wait for a better opportunity to get Valentine alone."

"Understood."

"I'm going to place a call to our contact in the FBI, to be ready with SWAT teams should we require them. Merlin, be prepared to direct them to position, out of range of the SIM cards but within sniping range."

"Yes, Arthur," Merlin says, "Should we call the paramedics?"

"Not yet, a cavalry of sirens will draw too much attention to the area and we mustn't involve any more civilians if we can help it. I also have someone in tech intercepting calls to the local police force in Kentucky and filtering out any calls regarding this situation. Richmond Valentine is black, they would shoot him on sight," Arthur says bluntly. "Merlin will remain as primary handler, but it's all hands on deck here at HQ for this mission. I'm signing off for the time being, I'll tap back in as soon as I'm finished coordinating with the FBI." 

  

**+**

 

The test in the church proves a success, if not in desired body count, but in proving Valentine's technology works.

"I didn't expect it to be that effective," Gazelle says, impressed, eyes glued to the screen with morbid fascination.

"What kind of response are we talking about?" Valentine asks eagerly from his perch by the window, his stomach too weak to witness any sort of bloodshed, even if it's a desaturated view via surveillance camera.

"One hundred percent," Gazelle replies. 

"So everyone's been affected, whether they have a SIM card or not," Valentine says with evident satisfaction. Then he scowls, "And Daft Punk?"

"Still at it," Gazelle says, rolling her eyes, "but they can't save everybody." She stretches her neck from side to side, eager to get a piece of the action, to slice and dice through those annoying helmets and the brains underneath them.

"Well, we gotta stop those Kingsmen. Word gets out about this test at the church, that is  _it_ , we are  _done_ ," Valentine says emphatically, "Bye bye Mother Earth, all of our hard work will be wasted, Gazelle!" 

Valentine stands up, cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "YO!"

Seconds later an armed suit pokes his head through the doorway, "Sir?"

"Hey, man, I think we're almost done here. You stand guard over this machine and monitor the church until Gaz and I come back to pack all this shit up. Don't touch anything, you got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Four will guard the back door, Five and Six will escort us to the church." 

"Yes, sir," suit Three confirms with a nod.

Gazelle and Valentine leave the room and armed suit Four escorts them downstairs.

Suit Three remains in the room. He continues to monitor the camera feed while he guards the field generator. He's so absorbed in watching helmet-head gracefully disarm and incapacitate the remaining conscious victims that he fails to notice that the second helmet-head is missing.

 

**+**

 

Meanwhile, back in the church, members of the congregation are either dead, unconscious, or too incapacitated to do much damage although they're still determined to try. 

Until he receives further instructions from Roxy, Harry decides to execute an evacuation of sorts to get as many survivors out of range of Valentine's device before they regain consciousness en masse and begin another round of murderous rampage.

"Do we have any idea what the range of Valentine's device is?" Harry asks as he catches his breath.

"Good afternoon, Galahad, this is Tariq. Unfortunately we don't have an exact figure, but judging by the distance from the house across the street to the church, we estimate the range to be approximately 300 meters from the house. A safe distance would be about 500 meters from the house."

Harry looks to the large grassy field directly behind the church. "Good enough for me. Thank you, Tariq."

He surveys the damage inside the church and picks his way across the litter of bodies, checking for pulses as he goes along.

He starts with those least able to defend themselves, the frail and elderly. He picks up an old woman, empties her pockets for any cell phones, and throws her over his shoulder then sprints out the back door toward the field.

"That'll take forever, Harry," Eggsy murmurs to himself.

On Harry's jog back to the church Eggsy spots a vehicle parked along the right side of the church. He taps Merlin's shoulder eagerly.

"Merlin, Harry's movin' people out the church onto the field. Would be quicker if he uses that pick-up truck parked by the church," Eggsy says, keeping his voice low, out of range of the comms.  

Merlin takes his eyes off Roxy's feed, "Tariq, monitor Lancelot while I handle Galahad for the next few minutes, please."

Merlin switches channels. "Galahad, any chance you can commandeer that pick-up truck?" Merlin asks, "Might be a good idea to conserve your energy in case there's a showdown with Valentine and Gazelle."

"Which truck, Merlin?" Harry asks, panting lightly. 

"There's a Chevy parked near the right side," Eggsy tells Merlin, "It's an old model from the mid-90s, prolly a 1500 - fink the latest models are called Silverado now - greater chance ov it not havin' a workin' alarm system. Plus with them older cars you can hot wire 'em right quick, ain't so easy nowadays with newer cars."

"The Chevrolet pick-up truck, Galahad, the one parked near the right side of the church. It's an older model, only a couple of years younger than your boyfriend, in fact," Merlin says casually, relaying Eggsy's information while ignoring the glare being thrown at him, "How are your hot wiring skills, Galahad?" 

"Walk me through it, Merlin, I need a refresher. I haven't hot wired a car since before my boyfriend was born," Harry says, equally casually, while dumping the first unconscious body into the bed of the pick-up truck then running back inside the church to grab another.

Merlin presses a mute button on his control panel while motioning for Eggsy to pull up a seat next to his and adjusts a microphone in front of Eggsy's face. Harry continues to fill up the truck bed with survivors, making sure to empty out their pockets of weapons, cell phones, and other SIM card devices.

"Lower your voice, Eggsy, use that sorry excuse for a posh accent you have, and walk Harry through it. Remember, he's Galahad out in the field. I must get back to Roxy."

Eggsy nods, his heart racing in a combination of fear and excitement. "Galahad," he whispers reverently, testing out the name on his tongue.

Harry has a tall pile of unconscious survivors in the truck by the time Merlin un-mutes his audio and turns on Eggsy's microphone.

"Galahad, I have to monitor things on Lancelot's end. One of our mechanics, err..  _Larry..._ will guide you through the hot wiring." 

Eggsy narrows his eyes at Merlin. He's about to complain (Larry? Really?) when they hear Harry smash through the driver's side window before reaching in and unlocking the door. Eggsy springs into action. 

"Good afternoon, Galahad, this is Larry," Eggsy begins, mimicking Tariq, "First you'll have to remove the panel covering the ignition system and steering column." He finds that his voice lowers on its own accord and takes on a different tone when he attempts his posh accent. He speaks slowly and carefully and makes sure to enunciate; better for Harry to understand him the first time than to have to repeat instructions a second or third time. "The screws are usually located underneath the steering wheel -"

Harry smashes the panel instead.

"Err, yes, okay, that works too," Eggsy says.

Then for some unidentified reason Harry steps out of the car and rips the driver's side door off its hinges and tosses it aside.

 _The fuck? Harry's gone barmy! Hot as fuck, though_. Eggsy clears his throat, "Okay, then, Steve Rogers, a bit.. not... necessary..."

"Have faith, Larry," Harry says, as he reaches behind the steering wheel to yank the wire bundle free, "What next?"

"Disconnect the wires to the ignition. Now I've not seen very many Chevy pick-up trucks," Eggsy admits, "but I believe it's red wires for power and brown wires for the starter. Just cut right through the wires, close to the steering wheel."

Eggsy watches as Harry pulls out a Kingsman penknife from his trouser pocket and unfolds a blade from its compartment to snip the wires cleanly.

"The scissors in our penknives are sharp enough to be used as wire strippers in a pinch," Merlin informs Eggsy on the side.

"Strip off a piece of insulation from each of the wires, Galahad, long enough so you can twist the exposed wires together easily." Eggsy can tell Harry's done this before, but he continues to talk him through it as it seems to calm Harry down.

Eggsy coughs to cover up a longing sigh as he watches the up-close-and-personal feed of Harry's big hands, his long, elegant fingers making deft work of the hot wiring. 

"Now twist the red wires together to turn on the electricity and power up the car."

"I can take it from here, Larry," Harry says as the panel lights turn on, "Brown wires to start the engine?"

"Yes, Galahad," Eggsy confirms, "Don't forget to disconnect the brown wires again after the engine starts up."

"YEEHAW!" Harry yells as he speeds off toward the field.

Eggsy shakes his head but he can't stop grinning.

"Thank you for your help, Larry," Harry says as he barrels over a few innocent shrubs, "Who's Steve Rogers?"

"Oh," Eggsy says, unprepared for a continuation of their conversation, "Err, Captain America? The First Avenger?"

"Huh. I'm afraid I don't understand that reference."

Eggsy nearly chokes. He can't tell if Harry's pulling his leg or not.

"Have you spent some time in this side of the pond, by any chance, Larry? Your name sounds vaguely American, and I can't quite place your accent."

Eggsy throws up his hands in frustration and Merlin chokes on a sip of coffee.  

Eggsy sighs, defeated, "No, sir, born and bred in London."

"Well, I like you, Larry. I very much look forward to meeting you when this is all over," Harry says as he brakes and puts the lever on Park, then begins to unload the truck bed, laying down the bodies gently on the grass.

Eggsy smiles, but his heart clenches painfully.  _Come home safe, Harry._

Then he frowns. Was Harry fucking Hart flirting with Larry a.k.a. posh Eggsy?! Eggsy crosses his arms. "Hmph." JW shakes his head in mutual disapproval.

"Good job,  _Larry_ ," Merlin says as he turns Eggsy's microphone off.

"Larry? Really, guv?" Eggsy says, unimpressed, arms still crossed.

"It was next in the alphabet that made sense, Eggsy," Merlin says with a shrug.

Gary. Harry. Larry.

 

**+**

 

"Another armed suit approaching the house," Roxy murmurs, "He appears to be carrying a couple of McDonald's bags."

"A decoy?" Merlin asks.

"Negative. Authentic grease stains on the bags."

Merlin smiles. "How good is your hiding spot, Lancelot?" he asks, "Remember the face shield on the helmet is highly reflective. Try not to move around too much since you're unaware of any noise you might be making."

Merlin and Eggsy watch as the view from Roxy's glasses shifts, and they assume she's moved to a more concealed spot.

A couple of minutes later, Roxy reports movement inside the house.

"They're on the move," she says, her glasses still in thermal scanning mode, "Three of them, Gazelle included, are making their way to the ground floor. The fourth person remains on the first floor."

The back door opens and Valentine, Gazelle, and armed suit Four step out of the house. They join suit Five and mingle in the garden.

"Do not engage, Lancelot," Merlin warns, "Gazelle is not your typical adversary."

They all watch through Roxy's glasses in disbelief as Valentine, the bill of his cap jauntily askew, casually snacks on McDonald's while across the street his SIM cards turn unknowing citizens - albeit racist, homophobic, antisemitic ones - into killing machines.

 

**+**

 

"It seems Valentine's buying us some time, Galahad," Tariq says to Harry, who's just transferred his second group of survivors to the field and is loading the third onto the pick-up truck, "he's currently in the back garden of the house, eating McDonald's."

"Nothing like a mass murder attempt to whet the appetite," Harry says grimly, gunning for the field once again.

When he gets there one of the women is sitting up, looking dazed. There's no anger or threat of violence from her, only confusion and fright, so they must be beyond the range of the signal out here. Harry idles the truck and pulls out his phone to begin recording, "Tariq, I've just begun recording -"

"Already on it, Galahad, I'll bounce the audio to your glasses," Tariq says.

Harry turns on his phone's speaker and approaches the woman cautiously.

"Ma'am," he says gently, "We don't have much time, you'll just have to trust me. You were brainwashed by a madman during Sunday service a short while ago. I'm trying to evacuate the church and get everyone to safety."

The woman looks up at the tall length of Harry, at the bespoke suit covering his lithe frame, and the blinding glint of his fancy helmet.

"Are you Our Savior?" she gasps, wide-eyed.

Harry sighs. Tariq chokes on his drink.

"What's your name, ma'am?"

"Catherine," the woman replies, giving Harry another once-over.

"Catherine, will you see to it that you and your friends remain in this field? It is very important that you do not go back to the church until I tell you it's safe," he says, slowly but urgently, "Do you understand, Catherine? Will you do that for me?"

She nods. Harry can see signs of stirring among the other survivors. He resumes unloading the truck and Catherine turns out not to be entirely useless, she helps him lift her fellow missionaries off the truck bed.

When Harry's ready to back up the car to the church for a fourth round, he turns to Catherine, who's busy helping someone who had just regained consciousness sit up on the grass.

"Remember, Catherine, the church is no longer safe, do not let anyone go near it," Harry repeats. "I'm counting on you."

She nods eagerly, giving him a bright-eyed look.

"Form a prayer circle in the field, you're closer to God out in nature," Harry suggests.

Anything to keep them at a safe distance.

 

**+**

 

"Neither Valentine nor Gazelle is carrying anything, Merlin," Roxy says, "Is it possible that whatever's triggering the SIM cards is a hand-held device, something he keeps in his pocket, maybe?" Gazelle's dress is too slim-fitting to hide anything, but Valentine's baggy streetwear could easily hold one or two small gadgets.

"Doubtful, Lancelot. In order to generate an electric field to cover the range of the church from the house, the device would have to be the size of a briefcase at the very least," Merlin informs her.

"Valentine might make a move soon, he's just chased down the last of his meal with a glass of wine."

"Good lord," Merlin mutters.

Roxy requests her phone recording be forwarded to her glasses comms now that Valentine's finished his snack, and the tech team complies immediately, bouncing back the audio as they had done during the sermon.

"You ready, Gazelle?" Valentine's voice filters in moments later, "Yeah you are, look at you!" he says, grinning fondly as Gazelle bounces impatiently in place.

"Shit, are those fuckin' blades in 'er fuckin' legs?" Eggsy asks, back on the sofa with JW.

Roxy takes a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Steady, Lancelot," Merlin soothes in her ear.

"Gaz, we're flying out of Kentucky as soon as we're done here," Valentine says, "Now that we know the SIM cards work, it's time to set things in motion. Begin the countdown to V-Day."

Gazelle taps away on her phone.

"Did you catch that, Merlin? Countdown to V-Day," Roxy repeats, "Could he be referring to the worldwide activation of the SIM cards?"

"I'm afraid so, Lancelot," Merlin replies, "I can't think of anything else it could be."

"Go back inside, make sure the signal's turned off," Valentine says to Gazelle, jerking his head toward the house. 

"I already checked before we came down here."

"Well check again, Gazelle!"

Valentine shakes his head at Four, "Don't wanna risk it while me and Gaz are at the church, ya know?"

Four looks like he couldn't care less.

 

**+**

 

Eggsy jumps off the sofa, dislodging JW in the process, who growls at Eggsy but it comes out sounding more like a cat's purr.

"Mate, I have an idea," he hisses at Merlin, "It's very uncool, and it ain't unethical, at least compared to what Valentine's up to, but it is a dick move," Eggsy says.

Merlin mutes his audio and turns to look at Eggsy, "Go on, then."

Eggsy exhales. "Right, so we know that Valentine loves Gazelle. Maybe it ain't sexual, maybe it is, but it's obvious he cares about her, a lot, and she cares about him."

Merlin raises an eyebrow, outwardly remaining calm but inwardly wishing Eggsy would get to the point sooner rather than later.

"He just sent Gazelle back into the house to double-check the signal thingie, so obviously, if he's so worried 'bout it, means he and Gaz ain't immune to the SIM cards, yeah?"

Eggsy can see the cogs turning in Merlin's mind.

Eggsy continues hurriedly, "So you grab a coupl'a SIM cards, find the fuckin' signal trigger device thingie -"

"Electric field generator."

"Wha'ever. Lock the both of 'em in a room, maybe in the church, plenty o' SIM cards lyin' about. Secure the exits, then tell 'em you'll trigger the signal unless they cooperate and tell ya everyfin' ya wanna know. It's gotta be a short countdown, ten seconds max, can't give 'em time to get away."

Merlin stares at Eggsy, stroking his chin contemplatively.

"I love it," he says finally, "It will take less than a second for Gazelle to chop Valentine to pieces once the SIM cards are active, and they both know it." 

 

**+**

 

"Galahad, can you lift the barricade on the front entrance of the church by yourself?"

"Yes, Merlin."

"Do that,  _now_ , and secure the vestibule - no one should be able to get out once they're locked in. Leave the front entrance open for now, but have some means of barricading it quickly, somewhere close by. No time to waste, Galahad."

Harry does as he's ordered, trusting an explanation is forthcoming.

He shuts both side doors leading to the vestibule and stacks a couple of pews behind each one, making them nearly impossible to force open. He exits the church through the rear and replaces the barricade on the door that Roxy had lifted earlier. He runs to the front of the church, picking up the discarded door he had ripped from the pick-up truck on his way. He leans it against the right side of the church, close to the front. 

 _The fuck is his obsession with that fuckin' car door_ , Eggsy wonders.

Harry lifts the barricade on the wooden double doors - the main entrance to the church - but leaves the beam within reach. He isn't surprised Roxy couldn't lift it by herself, it's incredibly heavy and longer than Roxy's height.

He leaves one of the doors ajar and hides behind the other, lying in wait. Tariq fills him in on Eggsy's plan.

"That's quite brilliant, Tariq," Harry says.

"Merlin's idea," Tariq says as he gives Eggsy an apologetic shrug. Eggsy waves him off, he'll take the credit only if his plan works and Harry and Roxy return to London safely.

Considering Gazelle's blades are sharp enough to slice through a human skull, Harry thinks the beam might not be enough to stop her, although it will slow her down. Harry retrieves the pick-up truck from where he'd left it idling in the back and positions the truck parallel to the entryway, so that all he has to do is back it up to block the door. It's an additional line of defense and he hopes there's enough petrol in the tank to keep the truck idling until it's needed.

  

**+**

 

Arthur taps back in, "This is Arthur. Snipers are in position, and SWAT teams are on standby five minutes away. No one will fire unless I give the order."

Merlin gives him an update and the current status, including Eggsy's plan, but leaves his name out of it. Arthur had assumed Eggsy was in Merlin's office simply signing employment papers, he would not approve of Eggsy watching the Kentucky mission feed, let alone participating.

Gazelle walks out the back door of the house. 

"Stand by, Lancelot," Merlin says. 

"Signal's off," Gazelle says to Valentine.

"Then get me to the church on time, Miss Gazelle," Valentine says cheerily, offering his arm. She rolls her eyes but links her arm with his.

Armed suit Four stays behind to guard the rear entrance of the house while Five escorts Valentine and Gazelle to the church. Suit Six leaves his post by the front door of the house and takes up guard behind Valentine and Gazelle.

"Valentine and Gazelle have left the house, Galahad, accompanied by two armed guards," Tariq tells Harry, and seconds later he sees the group through the slit in the door.

Harry steps out to greet them.

 

**+**

 

"Whenever you're ready, Lancelot."

"I'm out of tranquilizer darts, Merlin," she warns. 

Arthur grants her the permission she was subtly seeking, "Do what you must, Lancelot, we have to stop Valentine. Use your silencer and make it quick."

Roxy shoots armed suit Four, shoots the lock to enter the house, runs upstairs, shoots armed suit Three straight in the head just as he's drawing his gun, grabs the electric field generator - "Shit, it's heavier than it looks" - and runs back downstairs.

She's in and out of the house in less than twenty seconds.

Through the comms via Harry's phone recording she hears a polite discussion between Valentine and Harry. Harry must be stalling, waiting for her, because Kingsman figured out the technology behind the SIM cards days ago and yet Harry's letting Valentine drone on and on about them - "In simple terms, a neurological wave that triggers the centers of aggression and switches off inhibitors..."

Roxy finds Valentine's cheerful, singsong voice unnerving; it's so at odds with the subject he's discussing.

"Device secure," she reports as she winds a stretch cord around the briefcase-sized generator to strap it into the back of her motorcycle.

"Merlin, they'll hear me coming," Roxy says as she starts up her motorcycle.

"Tell 'er to speed up a few blocks away from the church, kill the power and coast the rest of the way," Eggsy tells Merlin.

She does exactly that after Merlin passes along Eggsy's advice and she ends up in the same grove of trees as where she began. She parks her motorcycle alongside Harry's and Merlin fills her in on Eggsy's plan.

Valentine, perhaps sated after his meal, is in an expansive mood and provides further details on the how and the why of his grand scheme - "No matter how many facts I threw at people and how many billions I spent lobbying and fighting for change, trying to reverse the damage through technology and influencing environmental policy, I realized it was never gonna be enough -  _we_   _are the disease_ , Mr. DeVere."

"Fuckin' nutter," Eggsy mutters. Merlin agrees, but he sympathizes with Valentine on some level, although not with the mass murder and the 'I get to choose who survives and they just all happen to be wealthy and self-important' bit. 

The only thing Valentine refuses to divulge is of course the one thing Kingsman needs desperately - details on V-Day, the worldwide SIM card activation.

Roxy hurries along. Harry has a short fuse and if he doesn't get what he wants out of Valentine he'll no doubt resort to drastic measures, and judging by the increasingly aggressive tone of Valentine's speech, he's running out of patience himself.

She dismounts, unstraps the generator, and runs quietly along the trees. She notices a very large, very enthusiastic prayer circle in the field behind the church. It freaks her out a bit, she can all but picture the white robes and burning crosses, but she concentrates on the matter at hand and moves stealthily (she hopes) along the right flank of the church.

She spots the pick-up truck with the missing driver's side door. She stares at it, transmitting the image to HQ, and says, "Merlin, I need an all-clear."

"Galahad, I need visual on the armed suit at your one o'clock for a few seconds," Merlin says in response.

Harry fixes his gaze on armed suit Six while Valentine continues his rant. As soon as Six turns his head to check along the left perimeter of the church, Merlin says, "NOW, Lancelot."

She sprints softly toward the truck and ducks into the driver's seat, keeping her head low. She lays down the generator on the passenger seat. She keeps her head down, brings in her knees and curls into the seat, making sure her bum and feet don't stick out the doorway.

"You're clear, Lancelot," Merlin says as suit Six doesn't even spare a glance in the direction of the truck as he assumes his previous lookout, "Thank you, Galahad."

Roxy really wishes she could hear any noise she's making as she disengages the lock and flips open the lid of the generator.

"Self-explanatory, Lancelot," Merlin says, viewing the generator device controls via her feed, and she hums in agreement.

She flicks on the power switch. "Range?" she asks, "Input's in Imperial units."

"500 feet," Merlin replies.

"There's an input for a limiting angle," Roxy says, "I'll just set it to generate a field radially in all directions, Galahad and I are protected anyway. What about the snipers?"

"That's fine, Lancelot, they'll be out of range," Arthur says.

She double-checks all the inputs.

"Galahad, I'm in position."

 

**+**

 

As soon as the words leave Roxy's mouth, Harry springs into action.

He grabs armed suit Five to his left and drags him in a chokehold and slits his throat with his left hand, while reaching into his jacket to grab his gun with his right hand and shooting armed suit Six in the forehead.

"Jesus, fuck!" Eggsy exclaims.  _Not now, stiffy,_  he tells his crotch.

Harry had managed to hit that exact spot in the vein which causes the most spectacular spray of blood, and true to form Valentine doubles over and retches.

"Tell the snipers to cover the generator!" Roxy shouts as she leaps out of the truck to lend a hand. Without any overhead structures to swing from to generate momentum, she takes a running start then performs two backflips in front of the church, landing a strong kick to Valentine's bum on the second flip to push him into the vestibule. She shuts the door and stands over the lock, ready to throw open the door to let Gazelle in. 

Meanwhile Harry had grabbed the truck door which he had left leaning against the right side of the church and is now using it as a shield-slash-battering ram, driving Gazelle backwards while she whirls around in a flurry of deadly kicks. Harry leaps with the door and pushes Gazelle into the vestibule on his way down, knocking the breath right out of her momentarily. 

Eggsy's going to buy Harry a Captain America shield when this is all over. He looks around the control center and wonders if they're hiding isotopes of vibranium somewhere on site.

Roxy and Harry quickly barricade the door, and Harry runs over to the pick-up truck and backs it up, smashing the driver's side mirror on his way to park the truck in front of the door.

Eggsy and JW form a cheering squad for the two knights, somewhat subdued so that their racket won't be heard over the comms.

Harry yanks his helmet off, which almost gives Merlin a heart attack. Eggsy fears he'll be as bald as Merlin by the time the night is over.

" _YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO TELL US EVERYTHING ABOUT V-DAY OR WE ACTIVATE THE SIM CARDS IN THE CHURCH_." 

Roxy puts her phone on speaker and sets it to maximum volume, and checks to make sure HQ is still receiving her phone's audio recording. She sets the phone down by the door. She begins the countdown, glaring at Harry until his helmet is fully secured over his head once again. 

 

**+**

 

_"Ten."_

_"Nine."_

"Damn it, Rich, I told you we should have used a biometric sensor for the test!" Gazelle shouts in frustration. Roxy's phone can't quite pick up their voices as Gazelle makes a deafening racket within the vestibule.

_"Eight."_

_"Seven."_

Gazelle's attempting to axe her way through the door, but the barricade holds strong and at one point her blade gets stuck at an odd angle and she has to wrench her leg free.

_"Six."_

_"Five."_

"C'mon, Gazelle! Stop playin'!"

_"Four."_

_"Three."_

"NOOOOOO!" Gazelle screams, "Rich, I can't do this, please, I can't, you'll be dead in half a second if the SIM cards are activated, I don't want to kill you, please, I don't want to kill you!" she pleads.

_"Two."_

"Shhh, it's okay, Gaz, it's okay."

_"One."_

"Turn the knob, Lancelot."

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!! YOU WIN, MOTHERFUCKER, ALL RIGHT?! You win."

 

**+**

 

"We need coordinates of your base of operations, Mr. Valentine," Harry says, through his phone speaker this time, "And please don't try anything, we still have control of the field generator."

Roxy's sitting in the driver's seat of the pick-up truck, her hand hovering over the knob of the generator, while Harry had released the tail panel and is sitting in the bed of the truck with his legs dangling off the edge of the truck bed.

"66° 58' 30.0" North, 61° 43' 04.8" East," Valentine replies sullenly, sounding utterly resigned and defeated.

"Transmitting to Percival and Bors now," Merlin says.

"According to their trackers, they're not too far away, actually," Tariq adds.

"How long is the countdown?" Harry continues.

Valentine sighs heavily and Harry's phone recording can just about pick up shuffling noises from within the vestibule, as if Valentine's settling in for the long haul.

"So here's the deal, Mr. DeVere. We calculated the time of day when the most damage would occur in those countries that have the poorest record when it comes to environmental issues, and that time marks the end of the countdown," Valentine explains, "Now if there's less than ten hours from when I give the go-ahead to start the countdown to that pre-determined time, then the countdown ends on that same time, but on the following day. It's good, right?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "And what happens then? How are the SIM cards activated?"

"Oh it's beautiful - it's completely automatic! At the end of the countdown,  _BAM!_ , linked satellites send signals to excite the piezos in the transducers in the SIM cards, generating the ultrasound waves enabling neuro-manipulation," Valentine says proudly. Moments later he asks irritably, "Is that it, man? Can we go? I gotta clean up, this shit is disgusting!"

"We're not letting you go until you tell us how to stop the signal, Mr. Valentine," Harry says, "We know you gave the order to begin the countdown. What happens if you're not in your base of operations when the countdown ends? You're a genius, I highly doubt you'd design something without the proper precautions."

"I guess I could just steal your helmet!" Valentine jokes. When Harry doesn't bite, he says, "You're right, Mr. DeVere, I am a genius. I do have a kill switch, a biometric switch set to me. It's not linked to the SIM card activation, it merely halts the countdown. Actually, your little valet has it."

Roxy swipes at the field generator's touchscreen display, "There is a biometric input screen. Are we sure it won't start the worldwide activation?"

"More than likely not, Lancelot," Merlin says, "Like Harry said, Valentine would need a kill switch if he's not in a safe space at the end of the countdown."

"And how do you stop the signal once the population has been reduced to your desired level?" Harry asks.

"Ah, well that," Valentine says boastfully, "I've built a powerful, dangerous machine, Mr. DeVere, so only I can stop it. It's another biometric sensor - let me tell you something, man, those things hurt like hell when you're setting them up! It's the only one set up to stop the signal, and it's at my base."

Harry waits to see if Merlin or Arthur has anything else to add.

"I believe we have enough to get started, Galahad," Arthur says, "We have Percival and Bors en route, if not already at the base, and we're scanning for those satellites now. Cede over custody of Valentine and Gazelle to the FBI, we can interrogate them further if we need to. SWAT teams are ready by the side of the church, and they know we need Valentine alive in case something goes wrong and we have to stop the signal."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Valentine," Harry says, ending the interrogation.

"It's like those old spy movies we both love, Mr. DeVere. I've told you my grand plan, now you're gonna step back and let me execute my convoluted plan of escape."

Harry huffs out a short laugh, "I'm afraid not, Mr. Valentine, this isn't that kind of movie."

The pick-up truck had long since run out of petrol, so Harry leans his back against the bed and pushes it, rolling it out of the way. Roxy sits in the driver's seat, legs swinging out of the doorway, the generator still powered on in her lap. She waves at Harry when he turns to look back to see where he's going. He lifts up a finger.

Harry jogs back. "You may not step outside until I give the order," he tells Valentine and Gazelle, "We still have control of the generator."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you said that already," Valentine grouches, "Just get on with it."

Harry props his phone up by the door then pulls out the barricading beam, somewhat battered by Gazelle's frantic kicks, and unlocks the door.

He goes to stand in front of the church a few paces away, as far as he can without breaking the tether between his glasses mic and the phone speaker.

"You can come out now, Mr. Valentine," he shouts.

"You know what, motherfucker, this is that kind of movie," they hear Valentine mutter.

" _WAIT!_ " Merlin yells into comms, "Valentine's fibbing! I just received word from Percival and Bors - the biometric sensor  _starts_  the signal, it's not an automatic activation!"

It comes too late. Roxy watches in horror as Valentine exits the church, gun drawn, and winces before he takes the shot.

Harry's head explodes.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! 
> 
> Here's what I imagine the sound-deadening motorcycle helmets look like, except a bit bigger probably:  
> 
> 
> Here's a badass chick on a Harley-Davidson Iron 883 motorcycle:  
> 
> 
> And here's an old 1990s Chevy pick-up truck, and Google assures me that the British term for pick-up truck is indeed pick-up truck, not lorry:  
> 
> 
> [A playlist for Roxy](http://8tracks.com/hartwinning/women-can-be-kings) (warning: lots o' cussin & swearin') and the [tracklist](https://36.media.tumblr.com/bfcee88e6972ce4f895d4868fbe4ebb4/tumblr_nwo6adC3Zp1r4pwt8o1_540.png).
> 
> Final chapter (for realsies this time) coming up next!
> 
> Once again thank you for the kudos and your comments, even if I don't get the chance to reply personally, they all made this fic 100x better, so thank you!


	6. 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King's(man) Speech, dubious application of the principles of physics, a reunion sponsored by Starbucks, lovable assassins, and an even more lovable pug puppy.
> 
> I decided to split the final portion into shorter chapters because it takes me forever to edit a long one <3

 

 

**_  
**IX. Mid-90s Chevrolet C1500 (Silverado), part 2** _ **

 

 

"Take the shot," Arthur orders.

Valentine crumples to the ground.

Gazelle screams.

 

**+**

 

Something's happening.

Now that Harry's helmet is shattered, ambient noise filters in through his glasses. Eggsy can hear ambulance sirens in the distance and the shuffling of the SWAT team but he's lost all interest in Valentine's fate. 

Eggsy stares and stares, barely blinking, at Harry's motionless feed, at the gradient of purples and pinks in the sky as dusk falls in Kentucky.

Suddenly the view shifts. 

Eggsy's breath hitches.

If he could just hear Harry's voice - s _ay something, anything please Harry! –_ one word in Harry's crisp, beautiful voice is all Eggsy needs - 

 

 _"Fuck, fuck and bugger! Bugger, bugger, buggerty buggerty buggerty, fuck, fuck, arse!"_     

 

**+**

 

"Good to have you back, Galahad," Merlin says, raising his voice above Eggsy's maniacal laughter.

"Mmmrph," Harry replies as he staggers to his feet, "Lance?"

"She's fine, Galahad."

Merlin and Eggsy follow Harry's drunken steps toward the pick-up truck, where he promptly collapses in the truck bed and falls asleep? Loses consciousness?

"Wait, whas he doin'? Come back!" Eggsy pleads, shaking the touchscreen.

"He'll be alright, Eggsy. The extraction team is two minutes away."

"Alright?! Merlin, he just got shot in the fuckin' head!"

Merlin gets up and stretches then walks over to the sofa and nudges Eggsy aside to make room. He picks up JW by the scruff of his neck and deposits him in one end of the sofa, where the pug promptly burrows himself into a nice nest in Harry's Moncler puffer. Merlin motions to one of his minions and minutes later a cup of tea appears in the small side table.

"You'll break the screen, lad," Merlin says gently, freeing his precious tech from Eggsy's determined grasp, "Drink your tea."

Eggsy does as he's told, hands shaking around the warm cup. He's relieved and furious and how the fuck can Merlin be so calm about everything?!

"It was merely an afterthought, making the helmets bulletproof," Merlin says in answer to Eggsy's accusatory glare, "I’m not sure how interested you are in the technology behind them, but I’ll tell you anyway. The soundproofing comes from the helmet's multi-layered structure, three layers to be precise - one soft absorbent layer and one stiff, reflective layer acting as resonators, separated by a layer of air...” 

Merlin goes on to explain the technology behind the helmets in great detail, in a purposely monotone drone, “...Now the bulletproofing, there's only so much we can do to absorb the impact of a bullet outright with the stiffness of the material... because of the soundproofing technology, the porousness of Kevlar wasn't quite ideal... we also had to make sure the helmets remained lightweight... we designed them to shatter on impact..."

"...As you know from elementary physics, conservation of energy dictates that the remaining kinetic energy must transfer... in this case it manifested in a rather spectacular explosion which made it look like Harry's head had blown to bits..."

"And for that, lad, I am truly sorry."

The 'tea' works its way quickly through Eggsy's system and he's snoring softly by the time Merlin finishes.

Merlin carefully retrieves his earpiece before laying Eggsy out on the sofa with JW at his feet. He drapes a blanket over them both and turns off the bright glare of the touchscreen before making his way back to his workstation.

 

 

_**X. 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS** _

 

 

Roxy's back in London the following Tuesday. Harry stays behind in Kentucky to recover and to act as Arthur's envoy, tying up any loose ends and ensuring that Kingsman's role in thwarting Valentine’s plans remains confidential, limited to Arthur's small circle of contacts within the FBI.

Eggsy's in his garage putting up 'Now Hiring' signs and drafting listings for mechanics to be posted on job sites and classifieds - 'Experience with hybrids and EVs a plus', Eggsy adds, recollecting Harry's advice to hire to his weaknesses.

He also clears a small area in the garage for his mum's office. "Set up the payroll system first thing, ma, make sure you're on the list, yeah?"

"I can't take money from you, luv!" Michelle protests.

"You ain't takin' it, mum, yous workin' for it, official bookkeeper of Unwin Auto Repairs, you are," Eggsy says proudly, "You get salary, benefits, vacation days, and only cuz you're me mum, you can leave early to pick up Daisy from school, yeah?"

Big Goon had come crawling back with his tail between his legs, asking for his old job back. Eggsy was desperate enough to take him in; even with Goon  _(Jesus what the fuck is his actual name?)_ on the roster the garage is still short-staffed. Big Goon had always been the best mechanic out of Dean's lot, and without their negative influence Eggsy's hopeful that he'll improve and become a valuable asset to the garage.

"Listen, Goon," Eggsy had warned, brandishing John Wick's contact info in his phone, "I got Miss Roxanne on speed dial and John Wick in my contacts,"  _not to mention a real fit arse-kickin' boyfriend_ , he added silently, "don't you try nuffin' funny, now."

Big Goon merely nodded meekly and went straight to work. Never a big talker, that one, which incidentally swung him further in Eggsy's favor.

Eggsy's busy all day, but it's the good kind of busy. He tries not to think about Harry too much. They hadn't spoken since 'Larry' lent a hand during the Kentucky mission. Harry’s personal phone is still in Merlin’s possession and the tech team had wiped Harry’s Kingsman phone remotely when it got lost in the wreckage in the aftermath. Merlin had also requested that he be the one to tell Harry about Eggsy's new position at Kingsman. Merlin would bear the brunt of Harry's temper, accustomed as he is to meddling in his friend's affairs, 'overstepping the bounds of friendship' as Harry would say.

Roxy swings by the garage in the early afternoon to say hello to Eggsy. She meets Michelle in the front of the shop in the midst of a frenzy of activity to make the reception area more welcoming.

"Hi, Mrs. Unwin?” Roxy says, extending a hand, “I’m Roxy, a friend of Eggsy's."

"Roxy! I've heard so much about you!" Michelle says, pulling Roxy in for a hug, "And please, call me Michelle." She never corrects anyone who calls her Mrs. Unwin.

Roxy gives her a warm smile, "I just got back from a business trip in the States, I was wondering if Eggsy was free for a cuppa. I just found out he'll be helping us out in the shop."

"Oh yes! I don't know when he'll find the time to do everythin'," Michelle says, waving at the garage behind her, but there's pride in her voice at how well her son is doing. "It's all a bit sudden, isn't it? Wish I could take credit for helping him see his potential, but I fell far short, I'm afraid," she says regretfully.

Roxy gives her arm a reassuring squeeze, "Eggsy is the best son, brother, and friend a person could hope for, Michelle," she says, "and that you can take credit for."

Michelle smiles shyly, "Ain't you a sweetheart, luv." She shakes her head as if clearing a cobweb of melancholy thoughts and changes the subject, "Now then, do you get a special car that needs tending, too, like your boss?"

"No, ma'am," Roxy replies, "Arthur gets the special car, but we do have access to a fleet of vehicles and private jets for our business trips in London and elsewhere. There'll be plenty for Eggsy to do."

"Well ain't you lot fancy?” Michelle says, impressed at her son’s new colleagues, “I went with him to the fitting yesterday at the shop. I can't believe he gets a new wardrobe out of it, he's just the mechanic!"

Roxy chuckles, "Yes, Arthur's a stickler for appearances, I'm afraid," she says, gesturing to her own bespoke suit.

"Met a nice bloke while we were there," Michelle says, "said he was fresh from a trip to Russia. Alastair, his name was."

"Oh, he's my uncle!" Roxy says.

Alastair, code name Percival, had returned to London only to leave again that same night for Valentine's arctic lair, accompanied by a team of agents whom he personally selected for their tact and discretion as well as experience with matters requiring diplomacy. Releasing the victims would be a simple task if they only had to deal with the imprisoned VIPs who refused to be chipped. The hundreds of powerful, high-profile people who were willing to watch billions of people die, however, made it a much more delicate matter.

"I'm so glad you two will be workin' together, seems like a great little shop," Michelle lowers her voice conspiratorially, "and I hear Eggsy's bloke Harry works there as well?"

"Yes, ma'am, Harry's lovely, I'll vouch for him any day," Roxy says earnestly, unsure of whether or not the age gap had come up yet between Michelle and her son, “I’m sure you’ll be meeting him very soon.”

Michelle beams at her. "Go on then, luv, Eggsy's out back, I'm sure he'll be happy to take a break."

"Thank you, Michelle, you're welcome to join us."

"Oh no, dear, you two young ones catch up. I'll see you around, luv, yeah?"

 

**+**

 

Eggsy's face lights up when he catches sight of Roxy.

"Roxy!" he says, wiping his hands on an old flannel before squeezing her in a tight hug, "Or should I call you Lancelot?" he teases, out of everyone's earshot.

"I can't believe Merlin let you watch the mission feed!" Roxy replies, "I'm actually on break from my debrief right now, it's going to take all day since it was such a big mission."

"Don’t I know it, bruv! Was me who thought to lock 'em both up in the church now, innit?"

Roxy gasps, "So you saved the world then, Eggsy!"

"You lot did all the dirty work," Eggsy says before a shadow crosses his face, "Plus Harry ended up hurt anyways."

Roxy squeezes his arm, "He'll be fine, Eggsy, and he'll be back in London in a few days. Don't tease him too much about the bruising, though, you know what a peacock he is."

Eggsy winces. "Is it bad?"

"Looks worse than it is," Roxy assures him, "Extensive bruising on the side of his face but no major damage below the skin. Looks a bit like the Terminator, actually, but like, a hot one, you know."

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "Long as he's ok, don't care much what he looks like."

"Oh, you'll love this photo I took of him on the Harley!" Roxy exclaims, taking out her phone, "Has Merlin set you up with Kingstagram yet?"

"Nah, bruv, just got me Kingsman phone yesterday."

Roxy sets up his account for him and they chat on the way to Starbucks.

"You know Valentine never meant to shoot Harry in the head, he was that much of a shit shot," Roxy says when they're settled into a pair of plush armchairs, "He did mean to shoot Harry, just not in the head. He was planning to steal our helmets for himself and Gazelle then activate the SIM cards in the church so that he could make his escape while the SWAT team turn on themselves."

Eggsy shakes his head. "What a fuckin' nutter. So whas gonna happen to Gazelle?"

Roxy sighs, "It's hard to say. We ceded custody of her over to the FBI. But apparently Valentine had left her quite a lot of money, and you know how it is, money talks. Billionaires live under a separate set of rules. I have a feeling the punishment won't be worthy of the crime. My guess is she'll be placed under house arrest in one of Valentine's mansions - now hers, I suppose, for the foreseeable future. She'll probably have to agree to the C.I.A. monitoring all of her activities as well."

"Valentine got off easy," Eggsy mutters. "He was plannin' global mass murder! You and Harry coulda died! My ma had one of 'em fucking SIM cards!!" Eggsy says, increasingly irate.

Roxy sighs. "I agree. But Valentine was a genius, you know? It wouldn't be too long before he'd come up with another harrowing plan if he had lived. He was a desperate genius with very deep pockets. Dangerous combination, that."

"I'm surprised I 'aven't heard much in the news," Eggsy says, "Is that Kingsman's doing?"

"Partly," Roxy admits, "But Harry did mention that the telecom industry's involved in the negotiations as well. Not good for business to have people afraid of SIM cards, now, is it? Harry thinks that even if the world knew what Valentine was planning, people would be more outraged about losing their free calls and free data for life."

"Thas fucked up."

Roxy tips her head back to slurp the dregs of foam and espresso from the bottom of her cup. "Now the local news is a different matter entirely," she says, rolling her eyes, "While I was in Kentucky there were tons of conspiracy theories floating around. People were saying it was the work of the devil and that the people in the church were possessed, and what they really need is a mass exorcism." 

Eggsy looks horrified. "What the fuck..."

"I know, it's insane," she says, "Suffice to say, South Glade Mission will have to reinvent itself if it wants to survive."

The two friends are quiet for a while. 

"I kind of liked Gazelle," Roxy says carefully, gaging her friend's reaction.

Eggsy snorts. "Yeah, got me own lovable assassin I'm dealin' with at the mo'."

"That's right! Merlin told me about you and John Wick, but you have to fill me in on the details! He's quite renowned in our line of work, you know."

 

**+**

 

Eggsy's first post on Kingstagram is a selfie of him and Roxy.

 

> **_@eggscalibur_  **  _first post! me & @roxelot hangin in *bux_
> 
> **@perci_dull**  Welcome to Kingstagram @eggscalibur! It was a pleasure meeting you yesterday. Say hi to your mum   
>  **@el_mago**  Get back here and finish your debrief @roxelot! And bring me a venti quad shot latte please     
>  **@king_arthur**  Gary, Merlin's just explained to me that your preferred moniker is 'Eggsy', but I simply refuse. That's not a name, that's breakfast! 

 

Eggsy grins. Kingsman is a fuckin' ace organization to work for. Except for the whole boyfriend and best mate almost dying bit. And all the knights flirting shamelessly with his mum at the shop, that was so not on.

Roxy walks Eggsy back to the garage before returning to HQ for the second portion of her debrief.

"Your mum seems very energetic," Roxy observes.

Eggsy sighs and runs a hand through his hair, "Well, ya know, I told ya it was John Wick who got rid o' Dean."

Roxy nods.

"Mum's been keepin' 'erself extra busy since, which is good, I fink, better than mopin' around after that arsehole," Eggsy says darkly. Then he brightens, "We're gonna spruce up the flat real nice now, repaint the walls, get rid of all Dean's shite. Turn over a new leaf."

"That's great, Eggsy!" Roxy says, "I think seeing how well you're doing, how successful you are, it's doing a lot to help her get over Dean, honestly. I don't think she saw clearly enough, all of your potential, you know, while Dean was around."

Eggsy ducks his head modestly, "Bit early to be callin' me successful, innit?"

Roxy scoffs and gives his head a playful swipe, which from Roxy is  _ouch!_ , "Eggsy you're not even thirty yet and you're running your own business. You're helping your mother gain back her self-worth and independence, and you've got a highly covetable job that's so cool it kind of sucks that you can't brag about it to your mates." 

Eggsy laughs, "Oi, ain't that the truth. 'course I get paid to keep me mouth shut, but yeah, Ryan and Jamal would go fuckin' mental in the armory!"

They chat on lighter topics until they get back to the garage, where they see Michelle leaning on the counter with a dreamy, faraway look on her face.

Eggsy waves a hand in front of her face mockingly, “Yoo-hoo, anyone there?”

“Oh Eggsy,” she says breathily, “the most gorgeous man was just in here, dropped off a car for ya to look at.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes at Roxy. “Yeah? Did ya get his phone number, ma? Do I hafta babysit Dais tonight?” he teases.

Michelle sighs, “Didn’t even leave his name, luv, said you’d know him by his car.”

Eggsy frowns. It sounds a bit shady.

“What’d he look like?” he asks as he walks around to take a look at the car. It’s a classic American muscle car – a 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS. He knows exactly who it belongs to.

The dreamy look returns, “Tall, dark, and handsome, had a bit of scruff. Gruff voice, real sexy like. American I think?” 

Eggsy groans and hides his face in his hands. “I swear ma, with the exception of my poor da, may he rest in peace, you really can pick 'em," he says, but it's without bite. "That car belongs to Mr. John Wick and trust me, you do not wanna get involved. I can't even tell you what he does for a livin'!”

Roxy can see the resemblance to Eggsy when Michelle pouts, “Said he was retired now.”

Roxy looks out at the street to see if she can catch a glimpse of him. "I can't believe I just missed the legendary John Wick!" Roxy says, although she doesn't voice the specifics as to what exactly makes him legendary. An astounding record of untraceable, brutal assassinations isn't everyone's cup of tea. Roxy, however, would love some pointers.

Michelle winks at Roxy, “Looked like a movie star, he did.”

"Oh lord," Eggsy says and shakes his head.

Roxy laughs at them both before taking her leave.

 

**+**

 

Merlin's waiting at the bottom of the airplane's stairs, both eyebrows raised at the amount of Walmart packages his minions retrieve from the plane before his friend's -  _half buzzed head?!!_  - finally emerges from the doorway.

"Oh dear," Merlin says by way of greeting.

"Could've been a lot worse, Merlin, trust me," Harry says, running a hand through the undercut on the right side of his head as he disembarks, "the Kentucky barber wanted to give me a mullet!"

"That's not the worst scenario I can think of," Merlin murmurs.

"Quite right, my dear friend," Harry says earnestly, taking his friend's outstretched hand and covering it with both of his, "You saved my life, Merlin, once again."

Merlin merely shrugs, "Just doing my job, Harry."

Harry pulls him in for a hardy pat on the back.

"Anyway I'm not too worried," Harry says as he releases Merlin and falls in step beside him, "my hair has always grown back remarkably fast, sometimes even thicker -" Harry stops short at his friend's glare and bites his lip to cover up a smile.

"So Valentine's - luckily very poor - shot hit you on the right side, then, did it?" Merlin asks, squinting at Harry's exposed skull.

"Yes, they had to extract bits of the helmet from my head, hence the buzz cut."

"It's fortunate your skull is so thick, then."

"I think you mean my hair, Merlin."

Merlin scoffs.

"I assume Roxy made it back safely?"

"Safe and sound. Thank you for taking care of her out there, Harry."

Harry waves him off, "I did nothing of the sort, quite frankly, she did everything on her own and handled herself remarkably."

Merlin chuckles. "You know she stole the electric field generator right from under the FBI's nose."

"No!" Harry gasps, "They were running around looking for it, quite embarrassed to admit they'd gone and lost such a dangerous device."

"Yes, she said she felt better knowing it was in my hands rather than the Americans'. I'm afraid the Kentucky mission's spoiled her, Harry," Merlin says ruefully, "I sent her on a two day recon mission in Northern Ireland on Wednesday. She came back last night and asked straightaway if you had any missions coming up you'd need partnering for."

"Oh dear," Harry says, shaking his head, "Perhaps you should stick her with Alastair for the next few missions, he seems to get stuck with the dull ones."

Merlin narrows his eyes, "Or maybe he just doesn't go around intentionally courting trouble."

Harry looks mildly affronted, "Me? Court danger?" he asks, blinking innocently.

Merlin rolls his eyes.

"And Gazelle?"

"For now she'll be kept under strict surveillance," Harry replies, "and actually the telecom giants have been hard at work even before the test at the church, setting up antitrust lawsuits against the Valentine Corporation for their free calls, free data forever scheme."

"I suppose we should be glad that the press will likely cover the fallout from the free SIM cards being rescinded rather than Valentine's nefarious plan."

"Yes indeed, Merlin," Harry says, "It's out of our hands and into those of the Fox News spin masters."

They're interrupted by JW running toward them, or trying to at least, his little paws skidding along the cement floor of the hangar, polished to a slippery sheen with decades of foot and auto traffic.

Harry gasps in delight and bends down to welcome the pug with open arms. "And who's this little critter? I didn't think there were any trainees around currently?" he asks as he picks up JW and gently ruffles his fat rolls.

"This is JW, he's Eggsy's pug."

Merlin clears his throat, "And by the way Eggsy's a Kingsman now so you can be completely honest with him about your job and you never have to lie to him and you have no excuse not to enter in a fully committed relationship with him," Merlin says hurriedly without pausing for a breath. "Also, you're welcome."

Harry glares daggers at Merlin as if to say  _NO PUMPKIN SPICE WAFFLES FOR YOU_. 

"What do you mean he's a Kingsman?" Harry asks, his voice low and threatening.

"I wanted to keep him safe, Merlin!" Harry hisses, clutching JW defensively, "He has his mother and little sister to take care of! Wait - if he's a Kingsman, did one of the knights die?! But surely someone would have told me! What is happening?!" Harry grips his forehead with his free hand. JW whines softly as if to point out that Harry's anger is misplaced. 

"Harry, will you let me explain?" Merlin says, "You know Alfred, our chief mechanic, has been wanting to retire for several years now. Well, who better than Eggsy to take his place? The lad's a good mechanic, he's smart and loyal and can keep his mouth shut. We've even worked it out so that he can split his time between Kingsman and his own garage."

Harry's eyes dart quickly from side to side, as if processing the information. Then his gaze softens, his lower lip trembles, and he turns those big, brown doe eyes at Merlin, "B-but Alfred will be with us forever," he says softly.

"Yes, yes, Harry," Merlin says, placating, "I know, we all love him, but it's time for him to retire. He's earned it. His wife's already made travel plans, god knows she's been waiting a long time too, and his grandchildren are eager to spend more time with him."

Harry seems mollified for the time being. "And Eggsy's accepted then, has he?"

"Yes, he signed the papers the night of the Kentucky mission, in fact," Merlin says pointedly, waiting for Harry to connect the dots.

Harry stops in his tracks. "Oh my god - Larry?!"

"Well at least we know your brain is still in marginally working condition," Merlin says dryly.

"And Eggsy got a pug to celebrate?" Harry raises JW to his eye level, "Aren't you adorable? Just like your da, yes?" he says as he nuzzles the pug's wet nose.

Merlin smiles and gives JW an affectionate scratch behind his ears, "Actually JW stands for John Wick - he gave Eggsy a puppy from his dog's litter." 

Harry's head snaps up, "John Wick? The extremely dangerous assassin who should never be approached by unsuspecting, untrained, unarmed mechanics?!"

Merlin sighs, "It's a very long story, Harry, you and Eggsy have a lot of catching up to do."

Harry's at a loss, unsure of where to direct his anger and confusion.

Instead, perhaps in deference to Merlin saving his life for the hundredth time, he opts for, "And how is John? Still as devilishly handsome as ever?"

"Devilish is right, he must have made some sort of deal," Merlin grumbles jealously, "the man hasn't aged in a decade!"

Harry falls silent and pensive, possibly thinking about the decades-wide age gap between himself and Eggsy.

"Go on then," Merlin urges Harry gently, "Eggsy's out back, preparing the latest auction lot for RM Sotheby's."

Harry takes a deep breath as if to psyche himself up, which is new, Merlin thinks. Harry's always been so self-assured.

"Oh, before you go, where's my invitation for Sunday brunch pancakes?" Merlin asks, hoping to lighten Harry's mood.

"Really, Merlin, I'm reuniting with my young, virile boyfriend after a week-long separation and a brush with death," Harry says slyly, "Do you actually think I'll be available for Sunday brunch this weekend?"

Merlin hides a smile. There's the Harry he knows. 

Merlin gives his friend an encouraging wave as Harry sets out in search of Eggsy, JW in tow.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Keanu Reeves as John Wick with the Chevy:  
> 
> 
> [A playlist for our dear wizard](http://8tracks.com/hartwinning/you-re-so-dark-but-i-want-you-hard)! My HC is that Nine Inch Nail's _Closer_ is Merlin's default sexytimes song. [[tracklist](https://41.media.tumblr.com/cc994a0a0730242f89486d566e187804/tumblr_nx57zd367f1r4pwt8o2_r1_1280.png)]
> 
> Next up, HartWin reunion! Whoop whoop!


	7. Jaguar XJR-15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry <3 Larry, My Fair Eggsy, an old perv + a cheeky brat + a neglected pug, this is all just fluff.
> 
> Also I wanted Alfred and Eggsy hanging out together so please indulge me the long intro.

  
  
  
_**X. 1991 Jaguar XJR-15** _

 

 _♪ Back in the day when I was broke  
__I was on Bow Road and lookin' out for eaters  
__Back in the day before I had seven figures  
__Our bredders were beggin' me_ _for features ♫  
  
  
  
_ Eggsy raps along to Dizzee Rascal's  _Nutcrackerz_ as he lies on a skateboard, face up underneath a '91 Jaguar XJR-15 which is balanced aloft on a 4-post lift.

Only his feet are visible sticking out from underneath the car, clad in his new leather [oxfords with trainer soles](http://www.colehaan.com/mens-shoes-lunargrand-2) - one of several pairs of shoes Dagonet had acquired from the US specially for Eggsy's starter wardrobe. He taps his feet with the rhythm of the song while he works on the underbelly of the car.

The Jaguar is one of several cars Alfred and Eggsy are preparing as part of a small lot of collectibles to be auctioned off by RM/Sotheby's to coincide with the release of the latest James Bond movie. 

 

**+**

 

A couple of days prior, Alfred had given Eggsy a crash course on estate planning while they walked along the subterranean hangar, taking inventory and assessing the condition of viable auction candidates.

"You know, Eggsy, when an estate is willed to or an inheritance claimed by Kingsman, it's rarely in the form of gold bars tucked away in some bank vault. 

"Except that one time James and Alastair came across a sunken ship in the Bermuda triangle, laden with chests of gold. You must ask Alastair about it some time when you feel he's up to talking about James. They were partners, you know, before James passed away. Lined Kingsman's coffers quite nicely, that treasure they found. But I digress... 

"As I was saying, modern-day inheritances take the form of a portfolio of tangible assets. There are some ready cash deposits, of course, but mostly it's stocks, trusts and funds, property and land - the most valuable asset to Kingsman, especially if it's located in London - and other physical assets, such as collectible cars and fine art."

Eggsy nodded, soaking in as much information as he can before his month of training is up. He's only been a Kingsman for a week and there's so much to take in, not just in terms of cars and tech but an entire world of wealth and privilege that Eggsy's never been a part of and honestly never imagined he would be _._

"Kingsman's amassed quite a collection of cars and vehicles over the past few decades," Alfred continued, nodding at the veritable museum around them, "We keep a lot of the cars for our use, as you know. We customize them with weapons or bulletproof panels, a few of the sports cars we use as quick getaway cars, and some of the SUVs and choppers are designated for use by our extraction team.

"We even have a fully functional Sikorsky VS-44, a flying boat from the 1940s. We can have a look at it later if you'd like. It really ought to be placed in a museum, but not too long ago we actually used it to extract a team of agents out of the Thames! Passersby and onlookers assumed it was part of some public vintage aircraft show," Alfred chuckled. 

"Aces! Wish I coulda seen that!" Eggsy said.

Overcome by a sudden wave of emotion, Eggsy threw his arms around Alfred and whined, "Alf, bruv, you can't leave! I love havin' ya here and I love your stories."

Alfred patted his arm, "Oh Eggsy, you'll have your own stories to tell, my dear lad, much more exciting than mine, I've no doubt."

Eggsy clung to Alfred's arm for the rest of their circuit around the hangar. 

"Now the vehicles we use for ourselves make up just a small portion of our inventory. The rest we auction off in lots. Some years the stock market is particularly volatile and Kingsman's returns aren't as high as expected, while other years are busier than usual and expenditures exceed the allotted budget. There's never been an immediate danger of running out of money, but we sell off a few cars here and there for a bit of extra spending cash, some peace of mind."

"Is that where Sotheby's comes in?" Eggsy asked.

"Precisely," Alfred nodded. "All of the paperwork and of course the actual auction - have you ever been to one, Eggsy? It's quite exciting, perhaps we'll go to the next one together - are done through Sotheby's. We have a special contact there who verifies the ownership history of the cars while keeping Kingsman's name out of it. It's a very convenient partnership.

"In fact, Sotheby's takes care of our fine art auctions as well - RM Auctions is just the classic car division of the auction house. Similar to our car lots, we archive the art we've inherited and hold onto it until the value rises - if a particular artist or genre becomes popular, for instance. The famous Impressionists always fetch a good price so we tend to hoard those. We sold a huge photograph by Andreas Gursky recently, after his  _Rhein II_  set the record for the most expensive photograph ever sold at auction. Didn't see the appeal of it myself, but we did get over a million quid for the photograph. Now I'm not an art person, sometimes I look at things and think my grandchildren could do one better, but Harry is very knowledgeable on the subject of art. You must have him give you a tour of Kingsman's fine art collection."

Eggsy has no doubt Harry's as knowledgeable on art as he is on many subjects. Eggsy himself isn't much of an art person, although it's more lack of exposure than lack of interest. He's genuinely excited at the prospect of viewing some fancy photographs and paintings and spending time in Harry's company, but at the moment the only art he's interested in is the art of seduction and getting that hot piece of ass into the bedroom. Alfred doesn't need to know that though.

"There's a gallery in the mansion with exhibits on constant rotation," Alfred continued, "We have so much art that only about ten percent of our collection is on view at any given time, with the rest of the art kept in climate controlled storage. Anyone in Kingsman is welcome to curate, by the way, perhaps you and Miss Roxanne can go through our catalog and curate an exhibit of your own - contemporary art perhaps? We have a lorry door that was painted on by Banksy, you know, if you're interested in that sort of thing. It's always nice to have some young blood!"

"One time Harry and Merlin curated a vast exhibit entitled  _ **Communicating Homoerotic Desire: From Ancient Athens and the Reign of the Phallus to French Rococo Art as an Expression of Pleasurable Pursuits**_ ," Alfred snorted at the memory, "I'll never forget that title, it was quite the mouthful! Oh Eggsy, you should have seen the look on Arthur's face! He couldn't believe we had so many works of art suited to the topic - they even dug up an artifact from Emperor Titus' collection of ancient porn. I never did find out which donor those artifacts came from originally, I was always curious how such a thing ended up in our collection.

"The show created such a buzz within Kingsman that eventually we loaned out the pieces to an independent art gallery out in Mayfair, just out of curiosity you know, for shits and giggles. It became their number one most-visited exhibition!" Alfred cackled heartily, eyes squeezed into slits, "The pieces were put up for sale and the entire exhibit sold out! Needless to say, Arthur was very glad for the money but even happier that he'd never have to lay eyes on those artworks again! Ha, it was brilliant!"

Eggsy clutched at his stomach from laughing so hard. He could easily picture Harry and Merlin enthusiastically curating phallic imagery, "Oh my god, of course they'd do something like that, the pair of 'em are fucking mental!"

"Oh Eggsy, you have no idea. They're a terror, especially when they team up." Alfred wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Now then, back to the matter at hand. Can you guess why Aston Martins make up the bulk of the small lot we're preparing for this particular auction?"

Eggsy scrunched up his face in thought. Aston Martin. James Bond. "Is it because  _Spectre_ 's comin' out? The new Bond flick?"

"Yes, Eggsy. Aston Martins always do well when a new Bond movie comes out, and we always seem to have one or two highly collectible ones on hand, DBs especially. Now in the new film they feature the Jaguar C-X75. Lovely little hybrid. I would have loved to buy one for Kingsman. We do that occasionally, I put it in the expense report under 'research and lab supplies'," Alfred said with a wink, "but unfortunately the C-X75 never made it to production - too expensive in the current economic climate. The one was built just for the movie."

They came to rest in front of the Jaguar XJR-15. "Now this beauty," Alfred said, caressing the car's smooth curves, "She's the predecessor, about two generations back, of the C-X75. She's quite special in her own right. Why don't we go through her specs and you can get started on preparing her for her big day?"

Later, on their lunch break, Alfred suggested Eggsy take a trip to the mansion's library. "We subscribe to several magazines and periodicals on cars and technology. It's good practice to keep a pulse on what's popular among classic cars, as well as new technology. I always love reading about the latest concept cars. It may even help you recognize cars that come into your garage - you could wheedle a clueless owner into selling you a collectible at a bargain price. Our department has its own generous budget, you know, feel free to add to our collection for research, like that Tesla you drove, or if you think a car will become a collectible for future generations." 

"Ya fink I can do all this on me own, Alf?" Eggsy asked anxiously. 

"I've no doubt, my dear boy," Alfred said, waving off his concerns, "and not just because I'm desperate to retire. You're intelligent with an entrepreneurial spirit, and you're hardly alone, Eggsy. The tech team, with their wealth of knowledge, is at your disposal, and Harry and Merlin, terrible twosome that they are, will always be available for advice and moral support."

 

**+**

 

 _Tap tap tap_  go Eggsy's oxfords.

  _♪ Don't gas me,_  
_I was in the back streets,  
__couldn't catch me  
__On a jack spree  
__They looking at me like  
Why you wanna rap me?"  
That's crappy  _♫__  

 _Tap tap tap_.

 

A shadow looms over him.

Eggsy's feet still. He tilts his head up and sees a pair of shiny black oxfords (not brogues - he picked up a few style pointers during his wardrobe fitting) straddling his own shoes. His heart beats faster, thudding so loudly in his ears that he can't discern between his heart and the bass of the rap song.

He watches as a pair of large, long-fingered hands set JW down on the ground by their feet. JW, distrustful of the hovering Jaguar, perches beside the deadly black oxfords instead.

Eggsy takes a deep breath and slides out from underneath the car. His eyes follow the line of the bespoke trousers - it's a long way to the top, and he ends up looking straight at Harry's crotch. Thank goodness for baggy coveralls.

"Hello, Eggsy," says that deep, crisp voice he loves. A large, long-fingered hand pulls him up off the skateboard.

"Harry," Eggsy chokes out as he lays his head down on Harry's chest. He wraps his arms around Harry, resting his grubby hands on his own forearms, careful not get grease on Harry's suit. "You're home."

Harry pulls Eggsy into a tight hug, buries his head in Eggsy's soft hair and breathes him in. He inhales the unique, oddly sweet scent of petrol and baby powder.  _Home_. "Yes, darling," he says, all the tension from the Kentucky mission draining out of him, "I'm home."

Harry eases his hold to cup Eggsy's face in his hands. He drinks in the sight of Eggsy's bright eyes and flushed cheeks, runs a thumb over the beauty mark on his throat that Harry's thought of way too often than is appropriate. Eggsy doesn't seem to notice or maybe doesn't care that half of Harry's hair is razed off.

Finally, finally! They kiss.

It's not the sort of kiss that leads to something more; they'll have plenty of those in the future, but this is the only first kiss they'll ever share.

Eggsy had assumed that Harry would take control immediately and is pleasantly surprised at the equal give and take. They take turns setting the pace and when Eggsy mimics Harry and sucks gently on his lower lip, Harry opens up and lets Eggsy explore to his heart's content.

They could kiss like this all night, JW and his pitiful, attention-seeking whining be damned. It's only Eggsy's hunger to  _touch_  and to  _feel_ which forces him to break apart.

"Harry, lemme wash up, yeah?" Eggsy says, panting lightly, "Don't wanna dirty up your suit."

"Sod the suit," Harry says and leans back in.

" _Harry_ ," Eggsy admonishes with a half-hearted attempt at wriggling out of Harry's grasp.

Harry sighs dramatically and relinquishes his hold on Eggsy. Eggsy's right, of course, a lot of time and effort go into making each suit and the bulletproof fabric is neither cheap nor simple to clean. Harry's ruined enough suits during his missions, his boyfriend's dirty, grabby hands is an unwarranted excuse for ruining another one.

"Merlin mentioned something about an auction?" Harry says conversationally as he slips off his jacket and drapes it over the Jaguar's door before accompanying Eggsy to the large sink.

Harry takes off his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves while Eggsy watches greedily, slack-jawed at the promise those deft fingers hold. There's a momentary lapse before Eggsy recovers enough to respond, "Huh? Oh right, yeah, it's just a small lot.  _Spectre_ 's comin' out, you know, the new James Bond flick? Maybe we can watch it this weekend?" he asks, suddenly shy.

"Certainly, my love, if we can fit it in among the other plans I have for us this weekend," Harry replies with a wink.

Eggsy grins, "Right. Yeah."

Harry decides to give the poor boy a break. Eggsy's buzzing with excitement and shifting in his coveralls, so he continues with the small talk, "Isn't it usually the Aston Martins we auction off when a new Bond film comes out?"

Eggsy nods, appreciating the opportunity to calm himself down a bit. Wouldn't do to have the night end before it's even begun. He turns away from Harry to turn on the tap.  

"Yeah, we got a couple of Aston Martins in the group, but the Jag's a special addition. Predecessor two generations back to the C-X75, a concept sports car used in the movie. Driven by the bad guy, I hear."

Harry positions himself behind Eggsy and reaches around to help him wash. Eggsy leans back and closes his eyes.

"I've never seen that model before," Harry purrs low in his ear, "such lovely smooth curves," he adds as he pinches Eggsy's bum.

"Oi!" Eggsy protests weakly, his arms gone wobbly as Harry's big, callused hands massage away the dirt. It might be because he hasn't been touched in such a long time, but Eggsy suspects it has more to do with Harry, that he now finds hand washing erotic.

Harry nuzzles the side of Eggsy's neck. He watches as Eggsy flushes from the tips of his ears down to his throat, his skin prickling with goosebumps at the lightest touch. Delighted, Harry does it again.

Eggsy shakes himself out of his Harry-induced stupor once the grime has been washed away. He turns off the tap. "Even if the movie weren't comin' out, I think the Jag would fetch a good price. Mint condition, only fifty ever made, thirty for racing and twenty for the road. This one here's one of the road versions, but she's still got that carbon-fiber body. The only road car with a body like that, actually. Light as a feather, bruv, you could probably lift 'er with your little finger!"

"Who do you think I am, Steve Rogers?" Harry says with a wry grin as he towels them off.

They both burst out laughing at the memory of 'Larry' and the pickup truck.

"Seems you took a likin' to  _Larry_ , don't know how I feel about that, bruv," Eggsy teases.

"Well he seemed very nice, and very kind, and he made me smile at a time of stress," Harry says, tugging on Eggsy's pockets to bring him closer, "Exactly the sort of person who reminds me why I do what I do, and why the risk is worth it."

Harry pulls him in for another slow, leisurely kiss which lasts until Harry starts giggling into Eggsy's mouth.

"Your proper English needs quite a lot of work though, darling." 

"Fuck off, Hart."

"Repeat after me," Harry instructs, teasing, his lips hovering mere millimeters away from Eggsy's, "The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain," he says, his consonants crisp and his pronunciation as good as any BBC News presenter's.

Eggsy takes a couple of steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. "In 'artford 'ereford n' 'ampshire, 'urricanes 'ardly  _h_ ever 'appen," he says in exaggerated Cockney.

He fixes Harry with a smug look. "Wot? Ya fink I nevva seen  _My Fair Lady_  before?"

Harry considers him, a smile playing along the corners of his mouth, "Well, you're full of surprises."

Eggsy rolls his eyes, "So what now, you gonna stuff me mouth with marbles?" he asks as he hastens back into Harry's arms.

"Hardly," Harry replies lazily, "I'll stuff it with something else though," he says and guides Eggsy's hand to his crotch.

"Oi! You're a fucking menace, Henry Higgins Hart," Eggsy scolds but leaves his hand where Harry put it.

"You know my given name is actually Henry, Harry's just a nickname. I never felt much like a Henry, though."

Eggsy peers up at him, grinning. There's so much to learn about his gentleman love and he's just getting started. "Yeah?" he says softly, reaching up and tickling his hand on Harry's buzz cut, "Well Gary and Henry's much better than Gary n' Harry. Or Larry and Harry."

Harry smiles. "True. But I still prefer Harry and Eggsy."

They walk hand in hand to the hangar's locker room.

Harry watches Eggsy unzip his coveralls. They're not as baggy as the ones he wears at his garage and he has to wiggle a bit to get them over his trousers and down past his hips.

"Bring your coveralls home, Eggsy," Harry says, his voice low and gravelly.

"They ain't due for a cleanin' yet, luv," Eggsy says, back turned to Harry as he hangs up his coveralls in his spacious locker, "'Sides, Kingsman property, innit? They're stayin' 'ere."

Eggsy turns around and catches the gleam in Harry's brown eyes, their usual warmth replaced by something darker, lustful and hungry.

"Oh ho ho," Eggsy says, a knowing smirk on his face as he rocks back on his heels, "Is this one o' your fantasies, Harry, a bit of roleplay? One o' your 'extremely filthy sexual acts with a male lover half your age'?"

"Believe me, my dear boy, this is one of the tame ones." 

Eggsy arches an eyebrow, "And what is it you're hopin' to find underneath me coveralls?"

"Nothing except you in your birthday suit, Eggsy." 

Harry walks a circle around Eggsy, eating him up with his eyes as he checks out his new wardrobe. Eggsy's wearing a slim-fitting, dark grey lightweight pullover and tailored black trousers. 

Harry runs a hand down the outer seam of Eggsy's trousers, lightly, all the way down. Were it not for Eggsy's fear of kneeing Harry in the face he might have collapsed from the sensation.

"These aren't the regular bulletproof suiting," Harry observes.

"Nah, they was made special for the auto and aviation maintenance branch," Eggsy says, sticking up his chin proudly, "Customized fabric, grease resistant and stain proof. Nuffin' sticks to it, guv!"

"Impressive," Harry says with a twinkle in his eye, "Not even come?"

_"Harry."_

"Let's go home and find out, shall we?"

_"YES, Harry."_

 

**+**

 

They take the elevator to the shop, Eggsy's coveralls balled up and tucked under his arm, JW balled up and tucked under Harry's arm.

"Nice coat," Harry says, eyeing his own puffer coat. The style suits Eggsy. Harry makes a mental note to do some shopping, purchase a Moncler in Eggsy's size. And a change of clothes for when Eggsy sleeps over, and perhaps a pair of fancy trainers for a job well done on the Kentucky mission. (Harry can already imagine Merlin's 'sugar daddy' jokes.) Mr. Porter offers same-day delivery in central London, they can have the clothes delivered and play dress-up in Harry's walk-in wardrobe. He could have takeaway and groceries delivered, even UberRUSH in lube and condoms from Boots. There is literally no reason for them to leave the house. Ah, London - why would anyone live anywhere else? The weekend is looking bright.

Harry's reflection greets them in the three way mirror when the elevator reaches the top.

"Oh god, I look terrible!" Harry groans and hides his face in his hands, the fading bruise appearing more jaundiced under the fitting room's lighting.

"You're beautiful, Harry," Eggsy says earnestly, "the handsomest man I'll ever kiss, honest." He cups Harry's cheek with his hand and pokes the pad of his finger into Harry's dimple.

Harry looks down at Eggsy, at those green eyes staring back, so open and honest. So eager to please, so willing to accept his faults which took decades for him to come to terms with. 

Harry has never felt more beautiful. "Thank you, Eggsy."

"'Sides, luv," Eggsy says with a cheeky wink, "ain't your face we'll be needin' to consummate this relationship."

 

**_XI. Ferrari 488 Spider_ **

 

 

Eggsy hums a tune as he exits the tube. As soon as his phone reconnects to service it chimes with a Kingstagram notification.

 

> _**@roxelot**  the one and only @galahartbreaker serving up pancakes and waffles to Kingsman staff, complete with overly generous drizzles of maple syrup! #thanksWalmart_
> 
> **@mmmkay**  do we want to know why @galahartbreaker owns a french maid apron? waffles are delicious!   
>  **@gawain_then**  @mmmkay sometimes it's best not to ask. i bet @eggscalibur knows, tho.   
>  **@perci_dull**  Extra hour at the gym #worthit  
>  **@el_mago**  I could get used to this

  
Eggsy grins and hurries along. He's not about to miss Harry Hart in a French maid apron. He fires off a text -

 _bring the apron home, luv_   

 

**+**

 

"Your hair's grown back," Merlin says bitterly.

Harry's sitting in the couch in Merlin's office, apron gone, long legs crossed in front of him. "Mmm, yes, although clever application of overpriced pomade helps the illusion," he says as he dives into his tall stack of pancakes.

"You wanted to see me, Merlin?" Eggsy says as he walks in. He grins when he sees Harry and joins him on the couch, "Hey, luv." He meant to give Harry a quick peck on the lips but the syrupy sweetness from the pancakes makes him linger a bit longer.

"Ever heard of knocking, my dear?"

"Only when I'm casin' a place to rob."

"Which you would never, ever do now that you're a gentleman, correct?" Merlin says.

"Never said I was, guv."

"Well now that you're both here," Merlin begins, schooling his features into something appropriately contrite, "Arthur's just finished reviewing the full Kentucky mission feed. I regret to inform you that I've been suspended for four days, on account of breaking protocol letting Eggsy handle Galahad during the mission."

"Wot?! That ain't right, Merlin, the mission was a success!"

"There won't be anything left of Kingsman if you're gone for four days, Merlin. I'll speak with Arthur," Harry says determinedly, shoveling pancake into his mouth before standing up and buttoning his jacket.

Merlin sighs dramatically, "Sit down, Harry. Arthur's immovable on this issue, I'm afraid. What's done is done."

-

_"Sir, may I remind you that you yourself said 'all hands on deck' for the Kentucky mission."_

_"Yes, yes, Merlin, I don't care what I've said, I won't change my mind. Your suspension begins Thursday. I've arranged transport to pick you up on Wednesday evening and drop you off in Newcastle, where you'll serve your suspension playing golf at the Royal County Down."_

_"I - what? I beg your pardon?"_

_"I'm not going to repeat myself, Merlin."_

_"Sir, I... Oh for goodness sake, Arthur, you could have just ordered me to go on vacation!"_

_"The last three times I tried, Merlin, something always came up and you ended up hunched over your monitors. This time I won't be taking any chances. Under the usual terms of suspension, you won't be allowed in Kingsman's premises, and only I will be able to contact you."_

_"I'm not quite sure what to say. Thank you, I suppose, Arthur."_

_"Don't mention it, Merlin. Seriously. I don't want to hear another thing about it. Now explain to me this 'Larry' business. How many names can one person have?!"_

_-_

"I've accepted it and I'll serve out my suspension and we'll all move on," Merlin says sharply, suppressing his excitement for his upcoming golf holiday. "I just have a few things to take care of before my suspension begins, as I won't be allowed anywhere near Kingsman premises for the duration."

Harry and Eggsy sit meekly on the couch, ready to take orders. Merlin wonders what else he can get out of their guilt... pancake breakfasts for the next few days? 

"First order of business," Merlin says, "I'm sending both of you to Monaco. Monte Carlo, to be specific."

Eggsy lets out a whistle, "Now that is some proper James Bond shit, mate."

Merlin rolls his eyes as he hands Harry a thin folder.

"This is a mission dossier," Harry says, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" Merlin says enthusiastically.

"Eggsy is not an agent," Harry says angrily.

"Ten more points to Gryffindor!"

Harry's body tenses. He's ready to punch something bald.

"Hang on," Eggsy says, "Monaco... Alfred was just talkin' about Monaco, isn't he plannin' on retiring there? No income tax for residents I think 'e said."

"Fifty points to Hufflepuff!"

Harry continues to glare at Merlin, which Merlin resolutely ignores.

"As you know, Eggsy, in three weeks' time your training period will be over. We're holding a retirement party for Alfred, after which he'll be embarking on a month-long journey around Europe with his wife. To show our appreciation for all he's done for us, we're going to gift him with the garage-slash-workshop of his dreams."

"Is this where I come in?" Eggsy asks.

"Yes, Eggsy. Alfred owns a villa in Monaco, overlooking the Mediterranean. I have the blueprints of the house, and it appears to be 25% living space and 75% garage space," Merlin chuckles.

He hands Eggsy a folder. "Now, Eggsy, in here are the blueprints and pictures of the house and gardens. For the next three weeks you'll review them, design the workspace, and come up with a list of tools and equipment for Kingsman to purchase. Think of how you would set things up if you were building your own dream home garage. Kingsman will place the orders and our team will set things up in the house. One of Alfred's sons will be there to coordinate the deliveries.

"Everything will be ready for your inspection by the time you and Harry arrive in Monaco, and you're free to rearrange things or purchase additional equipment as you see fit. There should be plenty of time to finish everything before Alfred returns from his travels."

"Yes, Merlin," Eggsy says quietly, torn between excitement at his first overseas trip - he's never even flown before, something he's never admitted to his colleagues since flying is second nature to them - and sadness for Alfred's departure. 

"Harry, your mission in Monte Carlo is simple recon. You have of course heard of the ['doomsday' seed vault](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svalbard_Global_Seed_Vault) in the Arctic; it's been in the news ever since events in Syria have forced researchers to make a withdrawal from the vault."

"I'm not at all surprised some idiots are planning to hold it hostage," Harry says, "Although this isn't the usual fear mongering terrorism, is it? Someone important is involved, as no fledgling terrorist organization would hold meetings in such an extravagant setting as Monte Carlo." 

Merlin nods. Insufferable prick that he is, Harry is very intelligent and discerning. "Just so. It may be nothing - so far it's just whispers and theories, but we need to gather intel all the same. You'll be out in the field just the one day I would imagine. The rest of the time you'll be assisting Eggsy. I would also like you to analyze the security system we set in place in Alfred's villa, see if there are any weak spots or holes in the surveillance. Agent or no, Alfred is a Kingsman and his long tenure means he knows a lot about our organization, thus he remains under Kingsman's protection."

"Very good, Merlin."

"One last thing. Three weeks is sufficient time to have one or two suits made, Eggsy, so make an appointment with Dagonet as soon as possible. Harry can accompany you, he'll know from experience which fabrics to choose. Lightweight I imagine, for the climate."

"Bulletproof?" Harry asks.

Merlin considers. "Yes, I think so. It won't be necessary for this trip, maybe Eggsy will never have need of a bulletproof suit, but may as well since he's going through all the trouble of a fitting."

"Yes, Merlin."

"Any questions? No? Excellent. Dismissed."

Harry and Eggsy stand up and take their leave, heads bent toward each other, murmuring plans and schedules as they walk out of Merlin's office.

That last bit of business done, it takes all of Merlin's self control not to perform a happy dance jig.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... any guesses as to whether or not Harry's simple mission will go as planned?
> 
> The Jag, she is quite curvy:
> 
> If you've never seen _My Fair Lady_ before, it's a very pleasant way to spend 2.5 hours so I recommend it if you like musicals!
> 
> Next and final chapter: a car chase, some action out in the field (bang! bang!), action in the bedroom (someone gets banged!), and Harry thinks he's Bond basically.


	8. Ferrari 488 Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A spy thriller bit with an unresolved world crisis plot which would make a great Mr. Robot crossover (which alas I am not smart enough to write), a very obvious car/penis pun and sex in a proper Italian sports car (finally!), an action sequence with Eggsy out in the field, swimming in the Mediterranean, some domestic fluff and voilà, it's the end of our little tale!
> 
> [Here's the car if you want a visual without scrolling to the bottom](https://49.media.tumblr.com/88cd9b45982a5f6f2245fcc253ad2b1d/tumblr_nyaoxajAhS1r4pwt8o1_400.gif) ;)

 

 

 ** _XII. Ferrari 488 Spider, part 2_**  

 

 

Eggsy squares his shoulders and tries not to look as self conscious as he feels. His hair is a shade lighter and his nose and cheeks have reddened slightly from the morning spent under the sun. His green eyes are bright with curiosity, darting to and fro behind the lenses of his Kingsman glasses (just the basic model with GPS tracking and audio comms, no video recording or advanced features), greedily drinking in everything around him. He's wearing a light grey bulletproof bespoke suit in a more modern, single-breasted style and a pale blue button-down shirt with no tie and the top two buttons undone. 

Eggsy emulates Harry's swagger as the hostess leads him to his table out in the veranda ("You can manufacture confidence simply with good posture, Eggsy"). It's not quite as effective with Eggsy's shorter legs, more suited to playing rugby than strutting down the catwalk as Harry's are, but it's a superficial way of convincing himself that he belongs here. 

It isn't until one of the diners winks suggestively at him that Eggsy realizes the looks being thrown in his direction are ones of admiration, not ones questioning his place among the crowd of wealthy patrons. 

 

> _**@eggscalibur**  Au Café de Paris, à Monte Carlo! Trop tôt pour un martini? #peoplewatching #lifeisgood_
> 
> **@el_mago**  Looking good, @eggscalibur!  
>  **@roxelot**  C'est top!  It's never too early for a martini!  
>  **@borsthesnores**  Meanwhile here in bumfuck Greenland...  
>  **@galahartbreaker**  Delicious! As is the martini, I'm sure   
>  **@king_arthur**  Unbutton your jacket when you sit down.
> 
> _**@eggscalibur**  feelin good, @el_mago! @king_arthur right away, sir! @galahartbreaker arent u in the middle of a mission right now???_

 

Has it really been just a few months since Eggsy was sulking around the garage, resigned to his fate of indentured servitude to Dean? It seems like ages ago, that fateful Thursday afternoon when Harry Hart strode into Eggsy's life. 

Now here he is, a bonafide world traveler ( _I_   _joined the mile high club my first time on a plane!!_ read his text to Roxy and his mates, to which he received a  _TMI!_   from the former and a series of eggplant-as-penis emojis from the latter) sipping on an overpriced martini in a fancy restaurant in Monte Carlo. 

As soon as his super sexy spy boyfriend finishes his reconnaissance mission, they'll drive up together to Alfred's retirement villa where Harry will check for any holes in the security system (unlikely, with Merlin's team responsible for its design) and Eggsy will put the finishing touches on Alfred's home garage and workshop.

It's basically a Kingsman-sanctioned vacation no matter how vehemently Merlin denies it. Merlin's minions had done most of the work already, all that's left is Eggsy's stamp of approval since he had designed the layout and personally chose all of the fixtures, tools, and gadgets. 

It was bittersweet parting with Alfred, from whom Eggsy had been inseparable during his month of training. 

"You can't leave me alone with these loons," Eggsy pleaded as they stood by the car waiting to take Alfred and his wife to the airport, where a private jet would whisk them away to their European tour, "You n' me are the only sane ones here, Alf!"

Alfred chuckled, "Aren't you dating Harry?"

"He's the craziest one!"

"Oh I doubt that," Alfred said with a twinkle in his eye, "Watch out for Arthur, lad." 

They exchanged Skype names and Eggsy sniffled as he clung to Alfred in a tight embrace.

"None of that, lad, I'll visit often," Alfred promised, "All of my children live here in England, I'll be here all the time."

Eggsy got a chance to heed Alfred's warning concerning Arthur soon enough.

Arthur once tricked Eggsy into driving his cab, except as soon as Eggsy closed the door the cab shot off straight into London midday traffic, with Eggsy powerless to stop or control the cab. He screamed his lungs out, tugging on the door release, thinking that the car must be possessed as it wove expertly in between cars and raced to beat red lights. He yelled out his final 'I love yous' to his mum, Daisy, and Harry when all of a sudden the car parked itself expertly in front of Kingsman's storefront.

Eggsy exited the car in a huff and slammed the door to find Arthur on the steps of the tailor shop, clutching the touchscreen remote control in his hand and cackling maniacally.

Eggsy tried to voice his complaints about Arthur's antics to no avail.

"He's the head of Kingsman, Eggsy, that's not nice," Roxy said.

"Show some respect, lad," Merlin told him.

Harry didn't even listen to a word Eggsy said, he simply ruffled his hair and said absent-mindedly, "If you say so, my dear."

Eggsy threw up his hands in frustration and resigned himself to the additional role of 'chief pawn of Arthur's pranks', apparently an undisclosed job descriptor for the chief mechanics of Kingsman. 

With Arthur as chief prankster it's no wonder all the Kingsmen are a bit off. 

He tried to convince his mother of this, she never turned down an opportunity to visit the shop - "They're all so handsome, Eggsy, and so polite!"

"Trust me, ma, you do not want to date any of them, they're all nutters, fucking mental," he said, making a twirly motion with his finger to emphasize his point.

"Oh come now, luv, they're  _tailors_ , how awful can they be?" she said.

Eggsy shook his head. "Fucking Kingsman."

 

**+**

 

It may not bode well for his sanity, but his colleagues at Kingsman are his extended family now. Eggsy knows that if he had to do it over again, he would make the same choice he did that day in the hangar with Merlin. 

Eggsy's trip down memory lane is interrupted by the arrival of his waiter. Eggsy thinks he could get used to the luxury of having nothing on his agenda other than eating, enjoying the scenery, and people-watching.

There's no shortage of fascinating characters around him - tourists like himself, business people entertaining clients, and beautiful, Pilates-toned women with very bright, very short dresses and impossibly high heels - 'cab to kerb' shoes, Roxy calls them. The only thing missing from the scene is Harry's endlessly entertaining salty commentary.

Eggsy's French is rudimentary at best, cobbled together from language apps and crash courses from Roxy, with little to no help from his polyglot boyfriend. Harry's highly ineffective tutoring methods involved mouthing vocabulary words while French kissing him and murmuring filthy phrases in his ear while he fucked him into the mattress (Eggsy assumed they were filthy phrases, Harry could've been reading the ingredients list for boeuf bourguignon for all he knew and it wouldn't have mattered, it all sounded incredibly sexy in Harry's voice). 

Language barrier aside, Eggsy is thoroughly enjoying his time in Monte Carlo. How distant his life of physical and emotional abuse seems now, sitting in a posh, sunny outdoor cafe overlooking the Mediterranean.

Sated by his three-course lunch (how fucking posh is that?!), Eggsy catches himself dozing off in the warm afternoon sun. He motions for the waiter and settles his bill before he embarrasses himself further by snoring (softly, Harry assured him once, "It's adorable, Eggsy.")

Eggsy stands up and shakes off the lethargy. He can almost hear Harry tutting at him when he unfolds his snapback and perches it jauntily on his head - not quite a sartorial match to the rest of his outfit but his pale British skin is unaccustomed to such bright, searing sun. 

Eggsy's in danger of running out of storage on his phone with the amount of pictures he takes while he walks along the Quais by the water. He updates his Facebook and regular Instagram account often so that his mum and Daisy and his friends from the council estate can live vicariously through his experience. He wishes they could be with him, but they all think he's accompanying his 'tailor' boyfriend to visit a V.I.P. client in Monaco.

The majority of his photos are of flashy sports cars, there's one around every corner in Monte Carlo. Eggsy has never seen such a concentration of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Maseratis anywhere and that's including the Kensington area of London where Harry lives and where Eggsy now spends most of his time.

Monte Carlo has more than its fair share of luxury car dealerships for such a small municipality. Eggsy window shops in between ice cream breaks (he hesitates before buying his third cone before remembering that Harry's always trying to fatten him up) and even dares to enter a couple of them.

Eggsy is universally treated with a lot more respect than he's accustomed to receiving from salespeople after the initial language hurdle and confusion -

"American?"

"Nah, English, from London, yeah?"

It's quite amazing, the effect an obviously expensive bespoke suit has on people.

Eggsy builds a good rapport with a salesman in one of the showrooms, who is majorly impressed with Eggsy's car knowledge. He gives Eggsy a comprehensive tour of the cars including the limited edition models, his beady eyes raking in Eggsy's expensive suit and straight-backed 'manufactured confidence' pose.

Eggsy's at the point of handing over his no-limit black Centurion Kingsman credit card ("That shit is made out of titanium, bruv!" Eggsy said when he first showed it off to his mates, and Ryan proceeded to try and take a bite out of it) as collateral for a test drive when his glasses' audio crackles to life.

"Stand by, Eggsy."

 

**+**

 

Eggsy comes to a sudden halt. That wasn't Harry's voice through the comms, it sounded more like Merlin.

 _Stand by?_  For what? Did Harry complete his mission already? 

Eggsy checks his phone while the salesman prepares the paperwork for the test drive. He and Harry had agreed to text each other any relevant updates, but he has no new notifications.

"Eggsy, can you acquire a car?" It's definitely Merlin's voice over comms.

"Acquire a car? You need to be more specific, guv, lots of ways to 'acquire' a fucking car."

"Steal a car which we can then return at a later time once we're done with it."

Eggsy takes a deep breath to calm himself. "You want me to steal a fucking car in plain sight in broad daylight in Monte Carlo."

"Yes."

"Alright, guv, tell me exactly what happened-"

"Within the next couple of minutes, please, Eggsy."

"Jesus, what the fuck happened, Merlin?!"

"Harry fucking Hart happened, that's what!"

 

**+**

 

Harry has never been so bored in all his life. Well, that's an exaggeration. He's been bored plenty of times before but he's never had Eggsy Unwin waiting for him on the other side of boredom, which is what makes this current situation particularly intolerable.

Harry can't afford to lose his concentration though. The mission dossier had severely under-reported the minimum buy-in for the poker game he joined in order to keep tabs on his target, Mr. Wallström, a high-level manager at E Corp, a multinational conglomerate with tentacles in many different industries.

What the dossier detailed as a no-limit hold'em cash game with blinds of €500/€1000 is now a cash game with blinds of €2000/€4000 and a buy-in of €500.000,00.

Whoops! Merlin would have his head if he knew Harry'd joined the game anyway without notifying HQ of the discrepancy.

Harry's never been more glad he's not wearing his glasses, which is standard protocol for agents when gambling is required during a mission - it wouldn't do to be accused of cheating. Fortunately he's participated in enough games as his alias Mr. DeVere that his presence at the table is unquestioned. Even more fortunate is the fact that Harry is an excellent poker player.

The table is quiet during the game but the players take several breaks between rounds. Thus far Harry's been unable to engage Wallström in any meaningful conversation. The man's reticence and skittishness (cocaine related, Harry suspects) makes it impossible to venture beyond small talk and mundane topics.

He's tempted to give up the mission as a lost cause but there is one other person of interest who might be worth the additional effort - Stephanie, Wallström's wife? mistress?, a beautiful Danish brunette with sharp cheekbones and pale blue-grey eyes. Harry's spied on enough men in positions of power to know never to discount the women behind them. He makes eye contact with Stephanie throughout the game.

Harry formulates a plan while he deals his hand.

 

**+**

 

They play for a couple of hours which earns them a half hour intermission. 

Harry makes his way to the bar. He uses his phone as an excuse to put his glasses on, making a show of holding the screen away from his face. He grins and types out a message on Eggsy's latest Kingstagram post.

Harry sighs. The sooner he gets some useful information, the sooner he can suck the remnants of that dirty martini off Eggsy's tongue.

He leaves his glasses on as he leans against the bar and surveys the room, pausing to capture faces for the recognition software back at HQ.

"Thank you, Galahad, we'll process these now," Tariq confirms.

"Is Merlin available, Tariq?"

"Not at the moment, he's handling Bors and Gawain in Greenland. Someone wants to blow up a pipeline apparently."

"Ah," Harry says. Better they than he, no matter how tedious this poker game is. "Could you patch me through to Lancelot then if she's available? Let her view my feed, I want her to examine something I've a hunch about."

"Sure. Hang on a minute, Galahad, I'll patch you through."

Harry can feel Stephanie's appraising gaze as she approaches the bar. Harry smirks into his whiskey glass. No one can resist Harry Hart when he's dressed to impress in his bespoke dinner jacket. Eggsy was his target audience this morning when he was deciding what to wear but Stephanie doesn't need to know that.

"Hello, Galahad, I'm viewing your feed now," Roxy says.

Harry doesn't respond verbally. He lets his gaze travel up and down Stephanie's model-perfect figure.

Roxy isn't quite sure what she's supposed to be looking at until Harry stops to stare intently at Stephanie's chest with an appropriately leery expression.

A-ha. "Zoom in please, if you could, Galahad."

Harry pretends to re-seat his glasses on his nose while he taps to provide Roxy a closer view.

Through Harry's glasses Roxy hears a woman's voice with a strong Scandinavian accent, "Impressive game, Mr. DeVere."

Roxy concentrates on the task at hand.

Harry lingers for a few more seconds before looking up at Stephanie. He gives her a bored look.

"Stephanie Wellick," she says, holding out her hand.

Harry takes her hand and kisses it, "It's a pleasure, Ms. Wellick," he says smoothly and orders her a drink.

 _Wellick_. Not Wallström's wife, then, unless she kept her name. No wedding ring, though. Wallström himself is nowhere to be found, he's probably getting his fix in a bathroom somewhere.

Harry wills Lancelot to hurry up with her analysis as he gets trapped in yet another mundane conversation.

"You can stop staring at the amulet now, Galahad, I have all the images I need," Roxy says slyly, "Nice tits, though."

Harry chuckles into Stephanie's hair.

"The amulet is about the same size and depth as the one Merlin and the tech team designed for me to hide a micro-USB drive, Galahad," Roxy says, confirming Harry's suspicions, "The first thing to try is to press on the diamond in the middle - it's raised a bit higher, I'd be surprised if it wasn't a spring loaded mechanism of some sort."

Roxy hesitates for a second, unused to being consulted by a senior agent. "Would it be a major inconvenience if I was wrong about this and it turns out to be just a necklace?" she asks carefully. She relaxes when she sees the near imperceptible shake of Harry's head.

The last thing Roxy sees through Harry's feed before he takes off his glasses is Stephanie sliding off the bar stool and leading Harry to a single-stall bathroom.

Roxy knows all about Harry's powers of seduction but damn, that woman is  _hungry_. Wallström must not be giving her what she needs. Her background check had revealed nothing, so for Harry's sake she hopes Ms. Wellick is simply sexually frustrated and not some sort of assassin on the sly.

 

**+**

 

Stephanie pushes Harry up against the wall as soon as the door to the bathroom is latched. She devours his mouth and paws impatiently at his trousers.

Last time Harry checked he had about fifteen minutes until he was due back at the poker table.

 _Shit._  That's too much time; he was hoping he wouldn't have to actually penetrate her. He slows down the pace, licking into her mouth and nipping at her lips. He grinds against her gently and she makes soft, desperate whiny noises while she reaches down to unbutton his trousers. He lets her, and he lifts up her dress and runs a hand up along her thigh, feeling her shiver at his touch. 

Harry thumbs her clit gently through her lingerie and she moans loudly with pleasure when he brings her to orgasm. To kill some more time he brings Stephanie close to the edge of her second orgasm and pulls back. He repeats the process until she's panting heavily, groaning in frustration, and gripping his wrist tightly. Finally he gives in. He hears her shout and feels the tremors wrack her body as she comes for the second time.

Harry pierces her with an amnesia dart.

It's a short-term dart, a '2x2' the tech team calls it - the subject will be out for two minutes, and when they regain consciousness they will have forgotten everything that happened in the past two minutes.    

Harry supports Stephanie's slumped form while he gives his hands a thorough wash and slips his glasses back on.

"Ready for transmission," Tariq reports.

Using his handkerchief to hide his prints, Harry presses down on the diamond in the center of the amulet. Sure enough a micro-USB drive reveals itself. He plugs it into the port in his phone. The status bar shows 25 seconds remaining for the download.

"Leave it plugged in after the download, Galahad," Tariq says, "There may be a counter on it showing how many times the information was downloaded off the drive, I would need to reset the counter and erase any traces of this geo location."

The download completes and Harry taps his foot impatiently while Tariq accesses his phone and works his magic.

"Done," Tariq says and Harry unplugs the drive.

He only has 20 seconds remaining before Stephanie wakes up, not including a small window of time so that the striking of the dart is well within the 2 minute mark, but it's more than enough time for Harry to wipe down the amulet, stick a nano audio bug and tracker into her brassiere, and arrange their positions as before.

His hand is up her dress again when he feels her snap back to attention.

"Wow," she says breathlessly and he smiles into their kiss. He certainly doesn't need an amnesia dart to make a woman feel like she'd died and gone to heaven but he'll accept the confirmation all the same.

He pretends to accidentally catch sight of his watch. "Shit," he says, "I should get back to the game."

"Oh. Perhaps I can take care of you after...?" she says, breathing heavily, her glazed eyes half-lidded. 

"There's really no need, Stephanie, it was my pleasure as well as yours," Harry says huskily into her ear as he straightens and tucks his shirttails back in.

Stephanie licks her lips as she looks at the bulge in his trousers.

"And I do have someone waiting for me..." he adds apologetically.

She snaps to attention and tips up her chin haughtily. "Say no more, Mr. DeVere."

Harry fusses over her for a bit, smoothing out her dress and tucking errant strands of her hair back into place.

"Ugh, he will not even notice anything!" she says bitterly. 

He tuts sympathetically. Men are idiots. 

 

**+**

 

Harry can leave the game at any point. He's won quite a large pot already, but he sits for another round to give HQ time to parse through the download from the amulet. The number of poker players has narrowed down to four - himself, Wallström, Holz, a German investor, and Drinan, an Irish high-stakes poker regular.

Harry feels Stephanie's icy blue eyes boring into him throughout the game but Wallström seems oblivious to her divided attention.

During his next break Harry once again pretends to check his phone and slips on his glasses.

"It's about damn time," Merlin's grumpy voice greets him.

"I missed you too, darling. How was Greenland?"

"The situation there is contained," Merlin replies tersely.

"Is the data from the amulet of any use?" Harry asks more seriously, taking a cue from Merlin's grim tone.

"Yes, Galahad, that was an excellent call, recognizing the hidden drive," Merlin says, "However the data paints a rather complicated scenario, one which we aren't remotely prepared for. I need you to do one more sweep of the room with your glasses to capture as many faces as you can. We've already pulled a few names from your earlier sweep." 

"Should I change the target? I can't get anything out of Wallström, but if there's someone else in the room who might know something?" Harry asks.

"No need, Galahad. Unfortunately it will take some time for us to connect the dots among these names, if there are any to begin with. I'm sorry I can't be more specific," Merlin says, "but we're still parsing through the data. Rest assured you'll have all the details tonight. We've hacked into the casino surveillance feeds, Ms. Wellick and Mr. Wallström give no indication that they're aware of the data breach so we're in the clear. Play one more round, then leave."

Harry interjects, "But if all of the important players are here already-"

"No, Galahad," Arthur's voice comes in, "this is much bigger than we're currently prepared for. Play another couple of rounds then leave the game. If we need you to return to the casino we'll let you know. Enjoy your time in Monaco with Gary, and by the time you return we'll have the follow-up mission plans detailed and ready."

"Understood."

Harry takes one last survey of the room, occasionally zooming in to get clearer images, before folding his glasses and pocketing them. 

Harry feels like it's a wasted opportunity but he can't make his own call with so little information to go on. He feels the familiar itch to lay waste to all the baddies; no doubt Arthur and Merlin are withholding the details from him to prevent such a scenario.

Instead he channels his suppressed energy into the remainder of the poker game.

 

**+**

 

Harry gets so engrossed in the game, by the time he realizes what he's done it's too late.

Drinan had left the game two rounds prior, looking slightly greenish. Wallström never returned from his last break.

Harry looks up at Holz and sees him, truly sees him, wholly, not just as a nameless figure broken down into tells and tics. Holz is giving Harry one hell of an evil eye. If looks could kill, indeed.

Harry stands up calmly. He nods to the attendant who will arrange for his (Mr. DeVere's) winnings to be deposited into his account, and promptly leaves the table.

As soon as Harry's out of the room he takes out his phone and looks up Reiner Holz, German hedge-fund tycoon, in Kingsman's database. Former tycoon would be more accurate, Harry discovers, Holz has had a recent spate of terrible investments, his debts have been piling up, and he's filed for bankruptcy protection.

"Shit."

He hurriedly slips on his glasses. "I need extraction,  _now_ ," Harry hisses.

He hears the comforting sound of Merlin's tapping.

"Galahad, what's happened?" Merlin asks calmly, "Is it Wellick? We've done extensive testing on the amnesia darts, she shouldn't remember a thing. Plus we covered all of our tracks, even blacked out portions of the surveillance showing you and her -  _oh shit!_ "

"What? What is it?" Harry asks.

"Martin's been in an accident, collision with a drunk driver."

"Fuck!" Harry exclaims, "Is he alright?"

"Yes, he walked away with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist, but the drunk driver is in critical condition. The car's completely totaled. Martin is working to get released from the local hospital as soon as possible, but I'm afraid he won't be able to pick you up anytime soon."

Harry takes several deep breaths. He can do this. He's faced tougher opponents on his own before. He'd rather not cause a scene, though, because this entire clusterfuck of a situation is all on Harry and has nothing to do with the actual mission.

"Should I call Uber?" Harry asks half-jokingly but gets no response. The comms are silent for several minutes and Harry ponders stealing a car from the valet.

"I've arranged alternate transport," Merlin says finally, "Main entrance, 10 minutes."

"10 minutes??"

"Surely you can hold Wallström's men off? Do whatever you have to do, Galahad. We have the data from the amulet, that's more than what we were expecting out of this recon mission. Just get out of there alive-"

"It's not Wellick or Wallström, it's not the fucking data, Merlin," Harry says, "Reiner Holz is sending his men after me for the  _seven million euros_  I just won against him."

.

.

_"Oh for fuck's sake, Harry!!"_

 

**+**

 

Harry makes his way to the main entrance, choosing the most crowded passageways to avoid direct confrontation with Holz's men. His alias, Mr. DeVere, an aging billionaire philanthropist, should not be able to take down burly, armed guards.

Holz's goons stick out like a sore thumb and Harry has no trouble avoiding them.  

"Make and model of the car, Merlin?" Harry asks as he hurries across the main salon of the casino.

"Hell if I know," Merlin replies.

"What? How am I supposed to know which car to-"

At that point Harry exits the casino and stops short. He finds Eggsy leaning against a blue Ferrari, arms crossed over his chest.

 _Damn he looks good,_  Harry thinks, _Except for that ridiculous hat._

"What. Is. That?!" Merlin squawks, seeing the car for the first time through Harry's glasses feed, "Eggsy, please tell me that is not a fucking Ferrari 488 Spider that costs upwards of 250 000 euros and is not even up for sale until next year!"

Eggsy shrugs his shoulders defiantly. "Listen, guv, you told me to acquire a car, you didn't specify how nor which nor where nor fucking nothin'!" he says angrily into Harry's glasses, "So this is on you as much as me, Merlin!"

Eggsy and Harry hear the distant sound of a coffee mug breaking.

After a tense silence Merlin says calmly, "I've dispatched a team to Monaco to clean up after you two, they'll be arriving in about two and a half hours."

"Good 'cause I used up two of my amnesia darts and those fuckers at the showroom will be wakin' up soon," Eggsy says. 

Then he turns to Harry and opens the passenger door for him. "Get in, you fucking wanker."

"It's nice to see you too, my dear, and how was your day?" Harry responds dryly.

Eggsy brings the convertible top of the Ferrari back down, much to Harry's dismay. He was hoping the wind would blow Eggsy's stupid hat into the Mediterranean.

"Not a word from ya 'til we're in the clear, ya get me?"

Harry nods obediently and suppresses a smile. He likes this bossy little Egg. 

Eggsy guides the car out of the casino pathway and merges into traffic at the respectable 50 km/h Monaco speed limit. Through the rear window Harry can see Holz's thugs follow suit in an armored SUV.

"Showtime, Eggsy," Merlin says.

What follows is a carefully choreographed dance as Merlin guides Eggsy through the streets of Monte Carlo, telling him when and where to turn, when to race past a red light, when to go the wrong way on a one-way street, when to blast past the speed limit as the tech team hurries to turn off traffic cams and speed guns in time with the car's movements.

Eggsy places his full trust in Merlin, he doesn't question or second guess his commands, he doesn't worry about pedestrians or traffic, and not once does he hesitate before executing a directive from Merlin.

They lose Holz's men easily with their superior advantage and the Ferrari comes out of it unscathed thanks to Eggsy's expert handling of the car.

They come to rest in a private, hidden scenic overlook just off the Moyenne Corniche, Eggsy performing a stunt drift and park that has them facing out into the sparkling blue vastness of the Mediterranean.

For several minutes the only sound is Eggsy and Harry struggling to regulate their breathing.

It was the most thrilling, exhilarating ride of Harry's life and he's been in several Hollywood-worthy car chases throughout his illustrious career as a spy. To see Eggsy so capable, so relaxed under pressure in the driver's seat of this six-figure car is a privilege Harry never expected to have.

Harry wants nothing more than a long life of adventure with Eggsy by his side.

"All clear," Merlin says, "Wait for further instructions."

They're silent for a moment longer. Harry carefully folds and pockets his glasses.

Eggsy whistles. "Fuck that's an amazing view."

"It's stunning," Harry agrees, staring at Eggsy, "Now take off all your clothes."

 

**+**

 

"It's been a while since I studied geometry, Harry, but I fail to see how you can get your dick in me arse while I'm bent over in this position, n' you sitting calm as you please in the passenger seat."

"Maybe it's not my penis I'll be inserting just yet, my love."

"Oh, pardon me, you looked like you was about ready to plow into me, is all."

"Quit wiggling your bum so."

"'S'posed to be enticing."

"Mmm."

"Shit, Harry! You just bit my arse!"

"You liked it."

"I did, ain't gonna lie. Now get on wiv it, would ya? Stick wha'ever it is you been plannin- ohhhhh fuuuuuck yessss..."

"You like that don't you, Eggsy?"

"Hnghhh." 

"You like my long fingers knuckle-deep in your hot, tight hole. And when I do this-"

" _FUCK!_  Yeah, Harry, just there! Do tha' again, fuck!!"

"Who else takes care of you like this, hmm? Who else can hit this spot time and time again, Eggsy?"

"Only you, Harry, you're the only one! Oh my fuckin' god that.feels.amazing... fuck, Harry, I need... hnghhh, I need more, I need ya Harry please, now, fuuck!" 

"You're so lovely like this Eggsy, you should see yourself, opening up for me so nicely."

"Harry please, I need your fucking cock inside me  _now!_ "

"Shhh, darling, indulge me just a bit longer..."

"Fuck tha'! Indulge  _me_ , you fucker!"

"Patience, darling -  _DARLING STOP!!_  That's not my penis, love, that's the gearstick."

"Well I'm gonna fuck the fucking Ferrari if you don't get in me NOW!!"

"Just let me put a condom on so we don't make a mess of this gorgeous car. Although you're right about the geometry, we might have to get out of the car for this - what are you doing - Eggsy, what? Oh...  _OH!_  I see..."

"Gymnastics, bruv, rememeber? Ohhh fuuuck yessss... you feel so fucking good Harry... so good... god I love... you... in... me! You fill me up nice, Harry, god you're amazin... yeah, oh yeah... Wait, the fuck? Why are you putting your glasses on?!!"

"My own private, secure channel, Eggsy, un-"

"Hngh..."

"cra-"

"Hnghhh..."

"cka-"

"Unhh!!"

"ble."

"Fuuuuck!"

"You should see yourself in my lap, Eggsy, you're absolutely breathtaking. Why would I not want to film this? Your legs are up by my ears on the headrest, you're moving your hips so sensually as you fuck me, your beautiful, thick cock bouncing - no! No touching, Eggsy. You're a remarkable sight, my love - the long expanse of your smooth, perfect skin skin giving way to the shiny bonnet of the Ferrari, and the bright cerulean sea framing us... c'est incroyable, mon cher."

"Hngh... porn... and... poetry... huh, luv?" 

"Don't come just yet, Eggsy."

"The fuck? You've got to be takin' the piss, Harry, fuck! How can you... do this... and say... those... things... in that voice, and then - unf! Wait, whas happening?"

"Come on, up you get, Eggsy. There we go, I've got you... Now I'm going to lay you down, spread you out on the bonnet of this magnificent car... there we are, perfect! Did you pick out this blue color because you know how lovely it looks against your skin?" 

"You gonna put that mouth o' yours to better use or wha- ohhhh goddd Harryyyy your fu... cking... tongue... Ahh! Oh god oh god I ain't gonna last if you stick your fingers in there too, bruv, ffffuckin' hell! Yeah, Harry! Yes yes fuck yes,  _OH GOD HARRY!!!_ "

.

.

.

"Can't believe you're still fuckin' dressed, Harry. C'mere, let me finish ya off, yeah?"

"Don't get up, darling, stay right there."

"Fuckin' perv with your porn. I ain't watchin' myself like that."

"What makes you think it's for you? And you're hardly innocent, what did Roxy call it? Your 'spank bank'?"

"Fuckin' traitor, she is."

"Mmm. I'm going to aim for your chest."

"Yeah, Harry, you gettin' yourself off while I watch? I take it back, I like when you're fully dressed in your fucking suit with just your huge cock on display like tha'. Fuck yeah, Harry! Yeah, yeah, c'mon Harry, luv, thas it, just you wait 'til tonight, 'til I get my mouth on that beautiful cock... Whoa!"

.

.

.

"That... is not my chest, Harry."

"Apologies, my love, I came harder than expected and you are entirely to blame."

__

**+**

 

"Fuck, don't know if I can drive, Harry, me legs've gone wobbly."

"Why are there so many water bottles in here, Eggsy?"

Eggsy snorts. "Yeah, I uh, got a bit carried away with the ice cream vendors, needed a drink after all them cones. You seen 'em, luv? [They shape 'em like roses](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_md71obfK091r13l3bo4_500.jpg)! Here, I took pics on me phone."

"Ah, yes, how cute!"

"So 'course I posted it on Facebook, then Dais commented she wanted a white flower, so then I had to get a white ice cream rose, then a yellow one..."

"Well you can have as much ice cream as you want, Eggsy, and I'm very glad for your foresight right now," Harry says indulgently before rinsing off his mouth. He wets a handkerchief to wipe Eggsy down before helping him get dressed.

"Oi, my glasses are beeping."

Eggsy slips on his glasses and Harry switches channels on his.

"I think we'll take the car, Merlin," Harry says amiably.

"Good, because the cleanup crew has arrived and you've just paid for the Ferrari with your gambling winnings," Merlin replies wryly.

"Fuck Harry, how much did you win?"

Harry looks guilty while he adjusts the driver's seat - "Goodness, Eggsy, how short are your legs?"

"Shut it, Harry."

"Oh did he not tell you, Eggsy?" Merlin says, "Harry here wheedled a paltry  _seven million euros_  from a down-on-his-luck German banker who was playing as a last ditch effort to absolve his debts. You can see why he sent men after the two of you."

"Hang on, I thought you was bein' chased as part of your recon mission gone wrong or sumfin'!"

"The recon portion went splendidly, actually."

"Bloody hell, Harry, you are such an arse."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Where to, Merlin?"

"Well the good news is Holz has called off the search party for now," Merlin says, "Unfortunately the Ferrari is a bit too conspicuous and if Holz decides to pick up the chase again he'll be looking for it, so it would be prudent to switch cars before your rendezvous with Martin. You'll have to pass through the town anyway so a quick switchover won't be much of an issue time-wise. I don't know if you heard, Eggsy, but Martin, your pilot on the flight to Monte Carlo, was involved in a car accident on his way to pick up Harry from the casino, which is why I had to resort to such drastic measures."

"Fuck, is Martin alright?" 

"Yes, he has a sprained wrist but it's not his dominant hand. Once you switch cars you'll meet up with Martin. He has a yacht anchored off the coast, I'll give you the exact location, and he'll take you the rest of the way to Alfred's villa."

"Very good, Merlin," Harry says as he backs up the car slowly and guides it to the motorway leading into the city proper.

"Now that we have a bit of time and you're not being chased by armed hooligans, let me fill you in on the data from the amulet. The reason we sent you to spy on Wallström in the first place, Galahad, is because we suspected him of planning an attack on the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, a gene bank in Norway. What we learned from the data in the amulet, however, is that this isn't some terrorist scare tactic or hostage negotiation situation. It's much, much bigger and far-reaching than that.

"We found building plans and security details for numerous sites - the aforementioned seed vault as well as other gene banks throughout the world, the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta and other similar institutions, various data centers including Digital Realty Trust, the world's largest data center, out in Chicago.

"They're not planning on destroying these sites at all - if only it were so simple! No, they want to corporatize and privatize them under various umbrella organizations, all headed by E Corp. 

"So imagine, if you will, the following scenario: E Corp has control of the world's seeds and therefore crops; they have control of diseases and vaccines - the CDC still store live strains of smallpox and the plague, you know; they have control of history and data and all of the world's stored information..."

"E Corp is positioning itself to control world crises and apocalyptic scenarios," Harry says grimly, "and then profit from the aftermath and rebuilding." 

"Precisely."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Eggsy mutters.

"It's fortunate we obtained this data when we did. The project is still in the early stages and we have plenty of time to dismantle the entire project carefully and thoroughly. Excellent work, Galahad."

Harry sighs. "Thank you, Merlin, but I wish the megalomaniacs of the world would give us a fucking break now and then."

"You and me both, Harry."

 

**+**

 

"Park the Ferrari in spot B58, on the lower level. The cleanup crew will take care of everything later," Merlin instructs.

"What shall I do with the key?" Harry asks.

"Take it with you, we can scan for the key fob code easily enough and we have software to start the car. The garage where our cars are kept is two streets down, I've forwarded you the address. Kingsman owns the vehicles in spots 12, 14, and 15 in L2 - Lower Level 2, that is."

Eggsy looks impressed. "So Kingsman has a lot of missions in Monte Carlo, then?"

"Yes, my dear, spies and gambling - the Bond films have that part right, it would seem," Harry says.

"Now listen to me, you two," Merlin says determinedly, "do not, I repeat,  _do not_  take the Lamborghini. Take one of the other two cars. They're just as fast, just as nice, but infinitely less conspicuous." _  
_

Harry and Eggsy exchange a look, which Merlin sees through Harry's glasses.

"I saw that, you little shits! Harry, I swear I'll have you suspended and Eggsy will never be allowed to go on another trip with you if you take the Lamborghini," Merlin threatens, "I mean it! If you so much as lay a finger on the tarp covering it..."

Eggsy sighs resignedly. "I won't let 'im take the Lambo, Merlin," Eggsy promises.

"I'll hold you to that, Eggsy."

No sooner had Harry parked the Ferrari and Eggsy cleaned up the interior and tossed out the water bottles, than their comms crackle to life again.

"Galahad, it's Tariq. I've been monitoring the bug you placed on Stephanie Wellick. I'm afraid I have some bad news."

 

 

_**XIII. Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet** _

 

 

Harry grips his temple, "What's happened, Tariq?"

"Ms. Wellick and Mr. Wallström were arguing, in Danish, in their hotel room, about some personal issues which are irrelevant to the mission. It got rather heated and they were at it for quite a while. Towards the end, in her anger Ms. Wellick let slip that you quote-unquote gave her multiple orgasms in the casino."

Eggsy glares at Harry. "I'll explain later," he mouths to Eggsy.

"She swore up and down that you didn't go near the amulet," Tariq continues, "and one of Wallström's assistants confirmed that the security footage at the casino showed nothing to indicate that you had, since we cleaned up the footage minutes after the incident, if you recall."

"Let me guess," Harry says, "he's sending his men after me anyway."

"Yes, Galahad, it seems there's something about you that makes men want to kill you."

"Ha."

"Wallström seems the paranoid type," Tariq says, "which I'm sure you noticed when you were spying on him. He wants you dead as a precaution, despite lack of proof that you breached the data, and perhaps as a personal vendetta on account of Ms. Wellick. Cover all his bases, so to speak."  

"Do they know my current location?"

"No, but they're minutes away," Tariq replies, "and I'm sure they can access CCTVs like we can."

Merlin joins in, "I suggest you and Eggsy hurry over to the other garage. I've forwarded the key fob codes to your phone, Galahad, whichever car you pick just use your fingerprint to unlock it. Also, because you're an idiot and a wanker of the highest order, Holz's men are mobilizing again. Eggsy, perhaps it would be safer if you-"

"I ain't leavin' Galahad, Merlin."

"Suit yourself. There was a holster and gun in your kit, correct?"

"Yeah, guv, good thing I been keeping up at the firing range, eh?"

"Yes, Eggsy, and I know you've been sparring with Roxy as well, although she never fails to beat you."

"Oi! I'm up to five minutes now! Used to be she had me flat on the mat in three seconds."

"Get a move on, you two. We're monitoring all of the CCTV feeds in the area and have access to the security feeds in both garages."

There's an hour or so left until sunset, so Harry and Eggsy don't have the cover of darkness. They move quickly down the street, Eggsy struggling to keep up with Harry's long strides, his legs still sore from their tryst in the Ferrari. 

 _I love you, Harry._ Eggsy doesn't say it out loud because it sounds so final under the circumstances and he doesn't want to jinx anything. He gives Harry a wink instead when he turns around to let him catch up.

"Alright, Eggsy?"

"Aces, guv."

They reach the garage without incident and with no discernible guards tailing them.

They make it to Lower Level 1 when Merlin says, "Halt where you are. Two guards approaching through Stairwell A, on your right Galahad, and one guard coming up the other stairwell, on your left, Eggsy, right now."

Harry spares a few seconds to admire the way Eggsy incapacitates the guard quickly and efficiently, spinning the gun to change his grip before butting it against the guard's head, knocking him unconscious.

"Impressive," Harry says while he takes down the two other guards in no more than five precise hits, whirling too swiftly for Eggsy to even discern his fight moves.

"You ain't too bad yourself," Eggsy says.

"Who taught you that move with the gun, Eggsy?" Harry asks as he divests one of the guards of his silencer and tosses it to Eggsy.

"Oh you liked that, didya, Harry?"

"Yes, my love, it was incredibly arousing."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Merlin mutters, "Congratulations, Eggsy! You've found the one thing bigger than Harry's ego - his danger kink!"

Eggsy ignores Merlin and grins at Harry as they make their way down to Lower Level 2.

"'Twas John Wick who taught me."

"Is that right?" Harry says, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "I thought your visits to Mr. Wick were play dates for JW."

"They are play dates for JW. But the poor bloke's bored, in'he? Gotta keep yourself entertained when you're a retired assassin, so he shows me some fings once in a while."

Harry closes the space between them. "Will you teach me?"

Eggsy brackets his arms around Harry and boxes him in against the wall. "Only if you teach me that thing you do with your tongue," Eggsy says huskily into Harry's ear and licks a stripe up his bared throat. 

"I hate to interrupt, boys," Merlin cuts in, "actually, I take it back, I love to interrupt these ridiculously inappropriate scenes, but we've got trouble. A group of four rather large armed guards are catching up to you, I can't even tell if they're Holz's or Wallström's men at this point, but the more pressing issue is that they've all got semi-automatics."

"Shit."

Harry turns to Eggsy and grips him by the shoulders. "Eggsy, make a run for it before they get here, I'll hold them off."

"Nah, like I said Harry, I ain't leavin' ya. C'mon, pick a car,  _not_  the Lambo, and unlock it," Eggsy says as he grabs Harry's hand and leads him toward the Kingsman-owned parking spots. "That one, number 12, the front of it's hidden in shadow."

Harry takes out his phone and pulls up the key fobs. He unlocks #12 via biometric scanner and the car chirps in response.

"Very,  _very_  nice," Eggsy says, lifting up the tarp cover to reveal the familiar script across the boot of the car -  _ **911 turbo S**. _ To Harry's confusion, Eggsy puts the tarp back down. He lifts it up again on the passenger's side, just high enough to open the door for Harry. "Get in."

Harry doesn't know what it is about bossy Eggsy that makes him powerless to resist his commands. Harry climbs into the Porsche, contemplating what that particular revelation means for their future sex romps.

"You got eyes on this level, yeah?" Eggsy asks Merlin.

"Yes, Eggsy, the guards have just found the other guards you knocked out so they'll be on your level as soon as they finish arguing, in German, so these must be Holz's men."

Eggsy replaces the tarp over the passenger's side then quickly moves over to the driver's side, lifting up the tarp just enough to open the door, and he gets in the car. He turns the engine on to open the window and shuts it off immediately after. He leans out the window and tugs on the tarp to bring it back down over the car.

"Let's hope this works," he whispers, "Your maintenance team's aces Merlin, you know that? Not a speck o' dust on this baby to give us away. You guys ready with that escape route?"

"Affirmative, Eggsy."

Harry leans in for a kiss.

They hold their breath as they hear the guards clatter loudly down the set of stairs to their level. 

Harry shakes his head. Not one for stealth, those guards, how positively amateur!

They hear arguing in German and the shuffling of boots but eventually the footsteps recede.

"My, my, Eggsy, you actually pulled this off," Merlin says after a long, tense silence, "Well done, lad."

"Where are they now?"

"At least three levels below, Eggsy."

"How deep does this fucking garage go?"

"Deep enough. Now get a move on!"

The Porsche purrs to life. Eggsy puts the top down and Harry takes a knife and rips the tarp as Eggsy backs the car up and executes a 3-point turn blindly. Harry gets out of the car and makes one more slice down the tarp and quickly climbs back in.

The tires squeal as Eggsy puts his foot down on the pedal and they race up the ramps toward the exit, leaving the torn tarp cover behind.

 

**+**

 

"Excellent job, Eggsy!" Merlin says, "You've bought yourself quite a comfortable head start, but rest assured they'll be on your tail shortly. Run this red, Eggsy, then take a sharp right up ahead in 15 meters..."

Merlin guides them back onto the motorway in no time and they zip down the scenic Moyenne Corniche toward the Kingsman yacht anchored off the coast.

"Martin is tracking your progress," Merlin says, "As soon as you get close enough he'll row a boat onto shore so you can board."

"More bad news, boys," Tariq says.

"Wot? You have got to be takin' the piss!!!" 

"In addition to Holz's men, Wallström has also dispatched a new team to track you down," Tariq reports, "At the moment they're relying on CCTV and eyewitnesses because they don't have an actual tracker on the Porsche, but I suggest you hurry, they'll have helicopters in the air soon."

"I think you'll make it," Merlin says, but they can sense his concern, "See that bay over there? The yacht is just around there on the other side of the cliffs."

"Pull in to the side here, Eggsy," Harry says.

"What are you on about, Harry? You wanna take a picture of the fucking sunset?" Eggsy says tersely but he slows down to a stop nonetheless.

Harry peers over the edge. "There's an outcropping right over that inlet there - if we maneuver the car close to the ledge, it will be much quicker than driving around the bay," he says. He turns to Eggsy with a dangerous glint in his eye, "I'm assuming you passed your swim test in the Marines, Eggsy?"

Eggsy grins, "Top marks, babe."

"I expected nothing less, my love. On y va!"

"I'll have Martin lower a boat down now to meet you halfway," Merlin says. Perhaps he'll earn another golf holiday 'suspension' for letting Eggsy and Harry run the show.

 

**+**

 

Dusk is falling but Eggsy leaves the lights of the Porsche off. He guides the car down a treacherous ledge and parks it behind some trees, well hidden from view from the main motorway.

"Strip, darling."

"Really, Harry, now's not the time-"

Harry chuckles, "You are utterly irresistible, darling, but have some faith in my self-control. These suits are heavy, they'll weigh us down."

He retrieves a waterproof rucksack pouch from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and unfolds it. "Put your wallet, phone, and glasses in here, Eggsy. We'll leave the suits in the car."

"What if they find the car?" Eggsy asks as he strips off his jacket, "Won't all that stuff in it be a liability?"

"They won't find the car. HQ has a tracker on it and we can always blow it up remotely if needed."

Eggsy gasps.  _Blow up a Porsche?!_

"It won't come to that, lad," Merlin assures him, reading his thoughts, "The cleanup crew is on standby at the moment as backup in case things go even more horribly wrong, but as soon as they receive confirmation that you two are safe they'll take care of the car."

Eggsy stops listening, distracted by the sight of Harry Hart, naked except for a pair of tight black briefs and the waterproof rucksack snug against his broad, muscled back.

"Can I have me phone back for a sec, Harry?"

"Hmm? Is it an emergency?"

"Well it's urgent but I guess it can wait. Just wanted to make a deposit into me spank bank, eh?" he says with a wink.

"May I remind you that you're being chased by two groups of mercenaries armed with semis," Merlin says impatiently, "I highly suggest you move your arses-"

Harry slips off his glasses and stuffs them into the rucksack before zipping it closed. "Oops," he says to Eggsy with a shrug.

They lock the suits in the bonnet of the Porsche. Eggsy follows Harry to the rocky ledge overhanging the deep inlet below.

Harry turns and extends a hand toward Eggsy. "Once more unto the breach, my love?"

It's not just adrenaline now that's making Eggsy's heart beat faster. He looks at the tall, handsome man standing before him, his dark brown eyes glittering in the gathering dusk against the backdrop of the deep blue ocean.

Eggsy would follow Harry Hart anywhere.

_"Yes, Harry."_

 

They jump.

 

And if they pull Martin and his sprained wrist off the boat to join them as they frolic in the sea, well, Merlin's none the wiser.

 

 

_**XIV. Epilogue** _

 

 

Harry carefully pries the two objects off the heated platform of the 3D-printer in his home workshop.

"Now then, my dear, would you like the tiara, or the crown?" Harry asks Daisy, Eggsy's little sister, whom he had invited over for tea along with JW while Eggsy and his mother are painting their apartment.

"I want the crown, like a king," Daisy says, "Eggs can have the tiara."

"That's a splendid idea, your highness," Harry says, not bothering to correct the little girl; if anyone's the princess in his and Eggsy's relationship, it's most definitely Harry.

Daisy scrunches up her face, "Crowns should be gold."

"Yes, darling, unfortunately a printer that spins gold is out of my price range. However I do have some spray paint lying around," Harry says as he looks around his cluttered workshop.

Minutes later there's a sparkly gold crown and tiara sitting on his workbench.

"Now for the jewels," Daisy says, looking up at Harry expectantly, as if it's only natural that he produces diamonds and rubies from his pockets.

Harry clears his throat, "Quite," he says, racking his brain. In the end he cuts out bits of colorful shim stock and glues them to the inside of the crown, giving the crown an almost stained glass window effect.

Eggsy and Michelle walk in just in time to witness the coronation.

 

> _**@eggscalibur**  Sir Galahad the Gallant crowning Miss Daisy! _
> 
> **@roxelot**  Adorable!! I'm so sorry I couldn't make it to tea   
>  **@perci_dull**  A few more years and he'll be knighting her ;)  
>  **@king_arthur**  You know our youngest agent was only 12 years old.  
>    
>  _**@eggscalibur**  @perci_dull @king_arthur don't even think about it!!!_

 

Harry picks up the newly-crowned Queen. He gives Michelle a kiss on the cheek and places the tiara on Eggsy's head.

"Perfect!" Harry says and Eggsy grins up at him.

Michelle sighs happily at the sight of them.

-

She was understandably apprehensive when she first found out that her son's lover is older than she is.

"If ever there comes a point when you think I'm holding him back, personally or professionally," Harry had promised her, "I will let him go."

Michelle could see how much it pained him to say those last few words, but she knew deep down that Harry is an honorable man and would keep his promise. 

"He's free to leave anytime," Harry said, "I do remember, when I was his age..." he trailed off, realizing that his promiscuous youth was perhaps not the most suitable topic to bring up with his boyfriend's mother. 

To his surprise, Michelle laughed. She too had had the good fortune of being beautiful and charming and had taken full advantage, never putting in much effort to get attention and never lacking in willing and eager partners.

"You know, Eggsy were never like that," she said thoughtfully, "It's hard to earn his trust, he lets so few people into his small circle of friends. Once in a while he'd spend the night with someone, of course, but he's a carer, mostly, he was never one for a quick n' dirty thrill." 

She observed her son one time after meeting Harry.

Eggsy's posture is straighter, he exudes a lot more confidence. Wide, happy grins which were once a rarity are now a norm. There are no more fading bruises on his face, no more shadows under his eyes which are now bright and shining and often crinkled at the corners from laughing. He had filled out too, and she knows he's been exercising regularly.

"Nothin' like in my competition days," he told her, "Just simple routines on the rings and parallel bars."

When she expressed surprise at Kingsman having an in-house gym and training facility, Eggsy merely rolled his eyes. "Ya know how much one of them bespoke suits cost, ma? And they're very closely tailored, gain half a stone and they won't fit no more! 'Course they have a gym. The tailors are the advertisement for the shop, you see, they never have adverts in the paper or nothin'."

For a brief moment, as she sat admiring her beautiful son, she regretted all those young men and women Eggsy could be with instead of Harry. Then she realized that the Eggsy she saw before her now - the happy, healthy, successful Eggsy, is all because of Harry's influence.

Isn't that what love is supposed to do - bring out the best version of yourself? 

Michelle had tried to be that person for Dean once. She had seen potential in him to be a good father and caring husband. But she hung around too long, way past the point of thinking that her love would be enough to change him into a better person.

After turning an alcohol-induced blind eye to what Dean put Eggsy through time and time again, the least she could do is support Eggsy in his relationship with the kind, caring, (handsome, wealthy, very fit) gentleman who brought out the best in her son when she couldn't.

Harry put Michelle's initial concerns to rest and she eventually felt comfortable enough to tease Eggsy. "Oi, love, does your Harry swing both ways? If you ever get tired of him-"

"He's mine, ma!!" Eggsy shouted and stomped his foot.

-

The sound of her daughter's voice brings Michelle back to the present.

"Hawwy you made fairy cakes?!" Daisy squeals in delight.

"No, love, your Uncle Merlin made them, do you remember him?"

She nods, "Uncle Baldy?"

Eggsy chokes on his glass of water.

"Let's not call him that in his presence, Daisy," Harry says, "But yes, Uncle Merlin is a stress baker - he bakes when he is very stressed, which is why we should always make sure that he is, yes?"

"St-w-essed," Daisy says slowly, testing out the word. "Okay!"

Eggsy shakes his head disapprovingly at him,  _"Harry."_

Harry winks at Michelle and her bright laughter fills the room.

(Later Merlin would marvel at Daisy's concern for him - "Daisy is an absolute delight, Eggsy! She's always so concerned about my health, asking if I'm stressed and inviting me over for tea."

Eggsy bites his lip to keep from laughing.)

 

**+**

 

After Michelle and Daisy leave and the tea party is cleared away, Harry and Eggsy sit in comfortable silence in the kitchen, each absorbed in their newspaper sections - science and technology for Harry, real estate for Eggsy. The tip of Eggsy's tiara is visible over his newspaper.

Eggsy sighs. 

Harry ignores him.

Eggsy sighs again. Loudly.

Harry hides a smile. "Is everything all right, my love?"

"Fuckin' impossible to find me own place in London."

"I can only imagine," Harry murmurs with as much sympathy as someone who inherited his central London property can muster.

Harry doesn't look up but he can feel Eggsy glaring daggers at him.

"What kind of place are you looking for, Eggsy? Maybe I can help."

"I'd love a small house but pre'ey sure it ain't in my budget," Eggsy replies immediately, face still hidden behind the newspaper, "Someplace close to the tailor shop, like, I dunno, just a short walk across Hyde Park or sumfin'..."

Harry smiles. 

"Not too far from the garage neivver," Eggsy continues, "maybe a twenty minute bike ride away. Always dreamed of having me own small workshop and garage too."

Harry folds up his newspaper. "I do know of a place, Eggsy, but unfortunately it's already occupied by a cantankerous old geezer who keeps a stuffed dog above the toilet."

"Thas perfect, Harry, those happen to be my other two requirements," Eggsy says. He folds up his newspaper in turn and makes a puppy face at Harry. "Can I move in, Harry, really?" he pleads.

"Moving in is a big step, Eggsy," Harry replies, "Not only for you but for me as well, I haven't roomed with anyone since my college days, and even at Eton I had my own private room."

"Got some embarrassing bachelor habits, old man?"

"I should warn you, Eggsy, I like to sing in the shower," Harry says as he moves to stand in between Eggsy's legs where he's seated on a bar stool.

"That's me fucked then," Eggsy teases, "I've heard you sing, bruv, that's a deal breaker for me."

Harry pouts. Eggsy draws him in for a kiss.

"Tell you what, Harry, you leave the singing to me and maybe me n' JW will let you keep Mr. Pickle."

"Oh you can sing? Man of many talents, are we?"

Eggsy jumps off the bar stool. He puts a hand on Harry's waist and leads him in a slow dance and starts to sing.

Harry smiles when he recognizes Etta James - Eggsy's been going through his old vinyls then.

Eggsy croons into Harry's ear, a low soothing baritone -

 

 _♪ I want a Sunday kind of love_  
_A love to last past Saturday night_  
_And I’d like to know_  
_It’s more than love at first sight_  
_And I want a Sunday kind of love ♫_   _  
_

 

And Harry thinks  _yes. This is what I want for the rest of my life_.

 

 

 _ **Fin**_  

 

 

 

 

 

_**XV. Afterword** _

 

 

"You wanted to see me, Merlin?"

"Ah yes, Eggsy, please come in. How are you? How's little Lee?"

Eggsy laughs and shakes his head. "Oi, guv, you would not believe it! Little guy's just been accepted by Mensa."

"Wow, that's amazing, congratulations! I always thought the young lad was something special," Merlin says and beams at him.

Eggsy rolls his eyes. "You know Harry and I really did try to pick the runt of the litter, ya know? The most disadvantaged, scrawniest, grumpiest little fucker we could find to adopt and the kid turns out to be Mensa material!"

Merlin laughs delightedly, "I'm very happy for the two of you but I don't envy you, it's not easy raising a genius child. I should know, I was one and I was an absolute terror."

"Good thing you're Lee's godfather then, eh?" Eggsy says and winks.

"Say, Merlin," Eggsy says a moment later, leaning forward, "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I want another kid," he whispers loudly even though they're the only two people in the room.

Merlin leans in. "I might be able to help," he says conspiratorially.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Eggsy, this is perfect timing actually. You know Arthur's been wanting to retire."

Eggsy nods. He's going to miss the old fucker but it's a long time coming, as Arthur likes to complain to Eggsy every chance he gets.

"We've been waiting a long, long time for Harry to slow down, he's next in line for the position, you know," Merlin continues, "but unfortunately he hasn't lost a bit of effectiveness out in the field so we can't use that as an excuse. The man continues to be unstoppable."

"Oi, don't I know it, guv! Pretty sure I'll be needin' Viagra before him. Just last night -"

"I don't need the sordid details, Eggsy," Merlin interrupts, "In any case, if you mention to him that you want another child, maybe the position of Arthur will hold greater appeal. He'll be in England almost all the time, there'll be no dangerous field missions, although that will be negotiable if Harry has anything to say about it."

Eggsy rubs his chin thoughtfully, "I do like the sound of that. You'll be needin' my help to convince him, then?"

Merlin nods, "What do you say, Eggsy?"

Eggsy thinks about Harry. He imagines the two of them old and grey in a villa overlooking the Mediterranean, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, Michelle, Daisy and her children, JW's pups and Mr. Pickle the Third. There's a vintage blue Ferrari Spider in the garage, still in working condition.

Eggsy grins, "Yeah, Merlin, it's a deal."

 

 

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The car, Ferrari 488 Spider convertible:  
> 
> 
> Here's Harry's ['Sunday brunch at home with Eggsy' playlist](http://8tracks.com/hartwinning/sunday-kind-of-love) and [[tracklist](https://41.media.tumblr.com/f67acebbce1318165adc8fdd8d2e87b2/tumblr_nyc9j40BNN1r4pwt8o1_540.png)] (I snuck in Simon and Garfunkel because of 'May-December relationship', a term I only recently learned about because of HartWin, lolol)
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your comments and kudos! 
> 
> I'll 'see' you all very soon! I'm now so deep in the trash heap I created [a separate tumblr for my HartWin feels](http://galahartbreaker.tumblr.com/), maybe I'll post some drabbles, I don't really know yet...

**Author's Note:**

> Self-beta'd and not Brit-picked.
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://thorins-arkenstone.tumblr.com/) but not currently very active.


End file.
